Accursed Fires
by BirmanDragon
Summary: Obsidian and Firana have journeyed into a new world... one filled with undead, dragonslayers, and a mysterious darkness which even the bravest souls refuse to go near. Will the two cope? And, more importantly, will Obsidian finally fall to the corrupting nature of his own power?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

(Thousands of years after chapter 1)

All good things come to an end, fading from existence. Whether by straight up death, disappearance, slowly fading over the centuries, or from the forgetfulness of the masses, everything fades. But despite this, no matter what, everything leaves a mark upon history, and upon the timeline. A legacy. We cannot choose what legacy we leave behind, as perception plays an important role in it. But we can choose what kind of legacy to leave behind.

In this world, thousands upon thousands have been sacrificed to preserve a legacy. To keep it from fading. To re-invigorate it, to revive it, and to delay the inevitable. Some believe that this is foolish, that it is fighting the future. But they are the fools. What is wrong with preserving a legacy? Everything is forgotten over time, that is true. But, as I learned from my many journeys, time is malleable. It can be manipulated, even destroyed, by mortals. Gods do not dare tamper with such things, as they understand the consequences. I did not. I was young, foolish. I thought I could avoid the consequences, that I was exempt from the fires. I was wrong.

It began an age ago, back when I was powerless. My father and mother died, although I can no longer remember how. I was passed on to my grandfather, who hated me with every fibre of his being. I found solace and comfort in a friend, but it did not cover the pain. You cannot cover old filth with new filth. Eventually, I left. I was whisked into another realm by the same powers I now wield, although I did not understand then.

After that, I saved a group of teenagers, protected a city during a siege, and dethroned a god. During that time, I met my Mate, so to speak. I took her with me on my third journey, and we grew closer. Eventually, we would have a child. I never saw him.

The consequences of my actions would catch up to me. I had defied death, twice. In another world, that would only result in my corruption. After my journey through this one, I learned the truth. Consequence was malleable, if not by me. I was Branded, and I can no longer die. I bear the curse now, and I will for the rest of my days. Powers beyond the veil keep me tethered to mortality. I am doomed to remain, forever guarding the timelines from nameless evils, keeping innocents from the same fate I am bound to.

My name is Obsidian, and this is one of my many stories.

This one… this one begins shortly after I dethroned the False God. I can no longer remember his name, but the universe does. The universe remembers everything. Sometimes, it shows me memories that are not my own. Other times, it shows me memories I lost, pieces of myself I left behind to make way for something new. My mind is mortal, even if my existence is not. The memories of a thousand lifetimes, all crammed into my brain. In exchange, I left behind the memories of my own. Am I upset about that? No. I was, once. But now, my tears are spent. I understand the truth. Someone has to do this for the greater good. Someone has to leave behind their lives, to let everyone else live their lives in peace.

Many times, I wish I could turn back the clock. To undo the many hours of suffering I have been through. I have the option. If I wanted, I could go back in time, return to the blissful days of my youth, short though it may have been. I do want to. But I won't. I had my shot at life, and I spent it well. In death, or more accurately, undeath, I have done more good than most have ever done. I could turn back the clock, yes, but that would undo everything I have fought for over the centuries.

In my existence, I have borne many titles. Morgul Warrior, Ashen Lord, and Time-Keeper. Now, I bear no title but one of my own design. Void-Master. No mortals know of me, and I would have it no other way.

There are many tales I can share with you, but let me start from the beginning. Well, as close to the beginning as I can remember clearly. It was the day I left with Firana. The day I stepped onto the path I still tread now. The day I lost my mortal life…

 **So, welcome back, all, to the third fiction in the 'Obsidian' series. While this prologue may seem confusing, contradicting in places, unusual, and even unorganised, it is meant to feel like that.**

 **To the guest 'SK' who left that large review for the last fiction in 'Obsidian'. Once again, I take your many points, and I will try to write more slowly. I do proofread my work, and I do plan each chapter. I will try to plan more solidly, though, and I will attempt to spend longer editing each chapter.**

 **With all said and done, until next time…**


	2. 1: Asylum

**Chapter 1: Asylum**

 **Welcome back, all! Yes, I'm back with another unexpected crossover, and I have done my research. Be aware, that since Dark Souls is a vague game, a lot of educated guesses and theories may be used here. Be warned, this crossover will likely be extremely long, since I intend to cover Dark Souls 1 and 3.**

 **This chapter is thousands of years before the prologue took place, something you need to understand before you jump into the story head first.**

 **To the guest 'SK': Thank you for the feedback in your latest review, and your knowledge of Dark Souls lore should not impact how much of the story you understand. It probably will, because I'm not a good writer, but I'm not going to let that stop me from writing.**

 **As stated in the summary, I am open to any and all requests, so if you have any, make them. If you have an account, private message me. If you don't, then leave one in a review along with constructive criticism. I will at least consider the request, I promise you that much.**

 **With everything said and done, enjoy!**

(Obsidian's POV)

Me and Firana fall out of the portal, this time with gravity going the right way, and we both land on our paws. I look around quickly, and… REALLY, universe, a JAIL CELL?! I know I'm disobeying the laws of reality on about 20 different levels right now, but still!

"Obsidian? Where are we?"

I glance around. This place looks oddly familiar…

Suddenly, a decaying corpse falls through a hole in the roof. I look up, and I spot a knight staring down at me and Firana. He leaves, and I shift my gaze to the corpse. This all seems familiar, but…

My brain clicks, and I literally start shaking in fear.

"Firana… we… we're actually… this is…"

My legs stop working, and my eyes fill with blood. I collapse onto the ground, fear filling every fibre of my being. I know how this story ends… there is no way to avoid it. Either I sacrifice myself to a dying flame, or I allow the flame to die, and let darkness rule this land. I don't like either option.

"Obsidian? Are you alright?"

ALRIGHT?! HERE?! IN DARK SOULS?! Wait… alright, I'm calm now. I'm still shaking in fear, but much less so than I was when I first saw Oscar.

"No, I am not alright. This is Lordran, the WORST POSSIBLE PLACE for ANY sane creature to be in." I look Firana in the eye. "If we're lucky, we'll be able to escape before we go mad. If not… well, there are fates worse than death in this land."

I get back onto my feet, and I grab Nifred. I don't bother grabbing the key Oscar sent down, instead simply punching the iron-bar door. The bars buckle under the force of my punch. I send another punch at the door, and it flies off its hinges. I turn back towards Firana.

"Firana, DO NOT, under ANY circumstances, stray from my side. I know far, far too much about this land from stories, and it is the most unforgiving place in the known universe."

Firana nods, and walks up to me.

"What is it about this place that has you scared so much, Obsidian?"

I sigh.

"Let me see… the thousands of undead, the dragonslayers up in the city of Anor Londo, the scaleless dragon Seath, the knight-bishop Havel the Rock, the literal demons roaming this land, and the Abyss directly below us. Yeah, that about sums it up."

Firana starts to look afraid, but…

"Well… does that thing on the other side of the wall count as a 'demon'?"

I look through the bars on the left wall, and sure enough, there is an asylum demon walking around in there. I shudder.

"Yes, that is a demon. Specifically, an Asylum Demon." I shudder again. "We'll need to fight our way through one in order to proceed."

"Why don't we just, you know, fly?"

I sigh, and facepalm.

"Do you want several thousand lightning spears being lobbed at your chest? Only large dragons have a chance at surviving here. We'd be toast as soon as someone saw us flying."

I start walking down the corridor properly, walking past several undead. I gesture for Firana to follow. This is going to be a long journey. I just hope I don't get branded by the Darksign…

(Time skip)

I punch my way through another iron-bar door, this one leading towards Oscar, if memory serves. I walk through Firana following closely behind. A pair of undead soldiers ambushes me when I reach an open doorway. A sword brushes over my armour, and an arrow finds its way over my shoulder. I throw Nifred at the archer, and rip the head off the shoulders of the soldier, before stepping forward. Firana follows, and shudders when she sees what I was fighting.

"Are these… undead?"

I nod.

"Yes. These have likely been undead for a few years, since they've gone hollow and lost their souls." I sigh, picking up Nifred from the corpse of the archer I killed. "Don't worry, that fate won't befall you. Your soul is not dark, so you are not at risk of undeath. Mine, though…"

I leave that sentence unfinished, and I walk up the stairs on my left. A giant, iron bowling ball goes down the stairs parallel to the one I'm on, and I suddenly remember Oscar. I jump forward, swinging Nifred into the ball. It shatters moments before it hits the wall.

"Obsidian?"

I sigh. Looks like I have some explaining to do. Or not, if I can get away with it.

"Let's just say that we've landed bang splat in the middle of one of the stories I've been told, and leave it at that, shall we?" Firana nods. "Although, once we're out of this prison, I'll have to explain everything I can to you."

I punch the wall the ball was headed towards, and it shatters. I spot Oscar, clearly more alive and well than in the games. He draws his sword, and charges towards me. I drop Nifred, and block his sword with my left arm. It doesn't penetrate the armour, but magical energy flows from the sword, through my armour, and into my arm. I almost recoil, but I have a job to do. I grab the sword, wrench it from Oscar's grip, and throw myself at his shield. Oscar rolls out of the way expertly, before jumping towards his sword. He grabs it… only to find a red paw on top of the blade.

"Oscar." I begin speaking. "Please tell me you haven't gone hollow already. We need you alive, since I don't particularly want to burn myself to keep this world alive."

Oscar visibly jumps, and he drops his shield.

"Who, pray tell, are you?"

I sigh.

"I am Obsidian, and this is Firana. We've… well, you wouldn't understand all of it. Suffice to say that I understand enough about this plane of existence, to know that you need help." I gesture towards Oscar. "I don't particularly want to bear the title 'chosen undead' after all, since you're much more fit for that task."

"Are you a student of the so-called Path of the Dragon?"

I shake my head.

"No, I am currently mortal, although thanks to the nature of my soul, I run the risk of being Branded. Firana, on the other hand, does not run that risk, since her soul is not as dark as mine." Firana looks at me, but doesn't ask any questions. "Now, could you please come with me and Firana? I don't want you going hollow, since you are the Chosen Undead, and the easiest way to prevent that is to get you to Firelink Shrine."

Oscar gives this a quick thought, before nodding.

"Agreed, dragon."

I nod, and smile.

"Good. Now, there is an Asylum demon that needs killing. Come along now."

I escort Oscar to the bonfire outside the boss room, before turning towards the door. I try to push it open. Locked. I sigh, before infusing Nifred with darkness, and swinging it at the door. It burst open in a display of dark power, revealing an empty room.

"Obsidian?" That was Firana. "Oscar is wounded."

I turn around, and I find that Firana is right. Blood is dripping from a cut in Oscar's armour.

"*sigh* Oscar, do you still have your Estus flask?" Oscar nods. "Fill up at the bonfire, then. I'll kill the Asylum demon."

I walk inside the boss room, no fog door visible, and I prepare Nifred. A massive Asylum demon jumps down from above, hammer and all. I give a humourless smile, and I charge. The demon swings his hammer, faster than in the games. I sidestep, the hammer grazing my wing, and I counterattack with a fireball. It explodes on the demon's face, and it roars in pain. I take advantage of the opening, and I stab Nifred between the demon's eyes, twist the blade, and pull out. Grey brain matter pours everywhere, mostly onto me, and I turn towards Oscar and Firana, who are both staring at me in shock. More Oscar than Firana, since the latter saw me in the Siege of Warfang. I shrug before speaking.

"I know, I know my way around a weapon, shut up. Now Oscar, have you refilled your Estus?" The knight nods. "Good. Let's set out."

I lead our party to the edge of a cliff, before motioning to Oscar.

"Oscar, could you give me and Firana a moment?"

The knight nods, before walking a short distance away. I turn towards Firana, and as expected…

*WHACK*

Owch… remind me never to **** off a girl again, those fists hurt!

"WHAT are you doing, Obsidian?! You don't even know this… knight! Why-"

I raise my paw, silencing Firana.

"He's part of a prophecy. Remember what I told you when we journeyed to the dragon temple, the story about the Age of Fire?" Firana nods. "Well… welcome to the close of the Age of Fire. Oscar is destined to renew it by burning himself in the first flame, which is currently fading. If he dies, I have to burn myself, and I don't want to do that. Partially because it'll leave you alone, but mostly because I'm a selfish *** who values his own life."

"So, Oscar is a destined hero, and if he dies you have to take his place?"

"Something like that, yes."

Firana nods, and I wave at Oscar. He walks towards us, and extends his hand. I realise that we still haven't returned his weapon to him.

"*Sigh…* This is going to be a long trip." I extend a paw, and give Oscar back his sword. He swings it a bit, before putting it back in its sheath. I turn towards the cliff. "Oscar, you'll need to stand at the edge of that cliff. A giant crow will carry you to Firelink. Me and Firana can fly, but since you can't…"

"Pray tell, why could I not fly on your back?"

I give Oscar a look of anger.

"I'd fall out of the sky, for one, and Firana is too young to carry a rider."

"HEY!"

A stone hits me on the head.

"OW! What is it with your abuse?!"

"You did leave me for three months, and I almost killed myself because of it!"

"Oh, right…" I notice black feathers out of the corner of my eye. "OSCAR?!"

I spot a giant bird in the distance, flying with a knight in its claws. I take off, following the creature. How did I end up in this mess?

Don't answer that.

(Time skip)

I land at Firelink, next to Oscar. He seems… rather angry. Although, he has loosened up a bit, thank goodness.

"Obsidian, tell me, was that necessary?"

"Would you rather be carried by your arms through the air by the bat demons of Anor Londo?"

THAT shut him up. Firana lands next to me, looking surprisingly calm.

"Bat demons?"

"Yes, Firana, bat demons. White skinned, throw lightning, and surprisingly difficult to kill in swarms."

I walk towards the bonfire, and sit down. I sigh in relief, as the heat from the bonfire re-invigorates me. I feel a burning pain on my chest, just above my heart, but it fades quickly. I get up, and turn towards Oscar and Firana. I open my maw to speak, but I'm interrupted by laughter coming from behind me. Oh… I forgot about you…

"Oh, look here, not one, but _three_ 'pilgrims' from the undead asylum, to ring the great bell…"

 **And… that is the end of chapter 1. How was it? Awful? Probably.**

 **The next chapter should be longer than this one, and should hopefully be worth reading. If anyone has any suggestions, make them. At worst, I'll consider them.**

 **Until next time…**


	3. 2:Explanations

**Chapter 2: Explanations**

 **Alright, first things first, I originally intended to leave this out, but SK gave me some good advice, so I'm explaining what I can here. If something isn't explained, it is because you do not need to know it. If you want to brush up on your Dark Souls lore, VaatiVidya's youtube channel is the place to go.**

 **To the guest calling him/herself R.K: I have heard of the majority of those, and I have not considered the first four. Bloodborne, I have though about, but I am leaving that out until the first story arc of the series is complete. I am planning on making this a long running series, but I am working with multiple story arcs. The first started in the first fiction, and is ending in this one. A trilogy, of sorts.**

 **Directly to SK, in response to your latest review: You should get an account and sign up to be a Beta reader. The reviews you have given me so far are, ironically, 5-star reviews, because you point out errors on my part, and you explain why they are errors. All compliments aside, I am taking the time to write this chapter because you are right; I did not explain anything about Oscar, or most of Dark Souls for that matter.**

 **And to the guest calling him/herself Abyss: Thank you for the compliment, but I'm not an amazing writer. There are HUNDREDS of writers better than me, and there are very few who have matched my stupidity in the history of Humanity. (Dark Souls jokes, because Humanity sprites.)**

 **Also: I edit what I type, so any grammar or spelling flaws are likely caused by my own stupidity, or failing to properly upload my file to the website. Probably the former, all things considered, so feel free to leave flames, so to speak.**

 **With all said and done, enjoy!**

 _Mortality. Such a fragile thing, in the grand scheme of things. Some try to throw it away, under the illusion that immortality is better. Fools. Immortality is a curse. To live forever, unable to die, watching everything you cherish slowly fade from the world… and the fools actively seek it. I would not wish this fate upon my worst enemies, yet I am bound to it._

 _There are many forms of immortality. Undeath, vampirism, soul-binding, timelessness… the list is as endless as the life it provides. During my millennia, I have faced every type of immortal known, and a few unknown. They are all grateful for death, in the end. A fate that eludes me, as I am Branded by the same sign that is upon my flag._

 _Back then, I had walked, with my Mate, into the world of Lordran. I rescued Oscar, the Knight of Astora, now known as the Chosen Undead, from the Undead Asylum, and arrived with my Mate at Firelink Shrine. Unfortunately, I came too close to the Bonfire of the shrine, and I lost what fragile mortality I still had. The heat Branded me, marked me as Undead, and forever cursed me. I would not realise until after I was separated from my Mate for the second, but not final, time._

(Firana's POV)

"Oh, look here, not one, but _three_ 'pilgrims' from the Undead Asylum, to ring the great bell…" I look behind Obsidian, and I spot a… hairless ape, I think… dressed in chainmail, laughing at us. "Well, I'll have you know, there are actually _two_ Bells of Awakening. One above, in the castle. And one below, in the ruins of New Londo."

The ape chuckles, and Obsidian snaps. He walks towards him, and picks him up by the throat.

"Shut. Up. You are not immune to consequence, you insignificant little _human_ , so stop acting like it. We already know about the two bells. Do not assume anything, especially since this is Lordran." Obsidian throws the ape off the side of the shrine, and he falls into what is most likely the Abyss Obsidian mentioned. The black dragon turns around, looking pleased with himself. "I can't tell you how long I have wanted to do that to him, I really can't."

"Care to explain why?"

I hope my nervousness doesn't show.

"You'll want to sit down for this." Me, Oscar, and Obsidian all sit down around the Bonfire in the centre of the shrine. "Alright… where to begin…" Obsidian sits still for a moment, lost in thought. "Ah, yes! So, back where I'm from, there are… stories, let's say, about this place. About how Oscar rescues an undead from the Asylum, before being killed by the undead. This undead then proceeds to Firelink shrine via the giant raven, rings two large bells, and meets a Primordial Serpent." Oscar practically jumps, but Obsidian holds up a paw. "Allow me to finish. The undead then proceeds to Anor Londo via Sen's fortress, kills Dragonslayer Ornstein and Executioner Smough, obtains a giant bowl called the Lord Vessel, brings it back to Firelink, puts it on an altar, runs off and gets some Lord souls, kills Lord Gwyn, and links the First Flame by setting himself on fire."

Obsidian takes a deep breath, before turning to Oscar.

"That is the short version, and roughly what you had planned to do, I take it. The long version… well… the beings with the Lord Souls are: Seath the Scaleless, Duke of Anor Londo's archives. The Bed of Chaos, a living representation of demonic power. The Four Kings of New Londo, who fell to the temptations of the Abyss long ago. And Gravelord Nito, the first of the dead."

Obsidian leans back, apparently out of words. My head is full of questions right now. New Londo? Seath the Scaleless? Bed of Chaos? Although, only one of the people mentioned on the list has me worried.

"Dragonslayer Ornstein?"

Obsidian nods.

"Captain of the Four Knights of Gwyn, and student of the Heir of Sunlight. Fought in the war with the original dragons, and killed more than a few of them. Decorated his room with the severed heads of the dragons he killed, hence the title 'Dragonslayer'."

"I've heard of Ornstein." That was Oscar. "Apparently, he's a war hero from the first war."

Obsidian narrows his eyes.

"Yes, a war hero. You do realise that heroism is perspective-relative, right? While to you, he may be a war hero, to me and most likely any other dragon, he's a monster. He killed HUNDREDS of my kind in the first war, and likely a hundred more afterwards. Now, change of subject, anything else you want to know?"

I perk up immediately.

"What about Seath the Scaleless? I heard you speak of him back in Avalar, what's his deal?"

"*sigh* Seath is the real reason the original dragons lost the war. Gwyn and his knights may have been mighty, but Seath is the one who told them the secrets of the dragons. Without Seath, Gwyn would not have learned that the original dragons were only immortal thanks to the stone scales on their hides." Obsidian's eyes go bloodshot, and begin to glow slightly. "In my mind, he's a traitor to his own kind, and deserves to die."

I nod in agreement. This Seath sounds as bad as Malefor, if not worse! I mean, betraying your own kind?

Oscar, though, seems mad.

"Seath is a duke, for goodness sake, and one held in high regard in Astora!"

"Oscar, look at it from my point of view." Obsidian gives Oscar an angry look. If looks could kill… "If a human gave the Dragons knowledge of Gwyn, and how to kill him, wouldn't you be angry at that human? Even if the Dragons held that human in high regard?" Oscar looks down in shame. I mean, Obsidian has a good point, doesn't he? "Exactly. While I may be intelligent, Seath still betrayed my kind, and for that, he deserves to die. The same as any traitor deserves to die. Now, where was I before this Q&A?"

"Ah, yes. So, Oscar was supposed to be the chosen undead, and was supposed to link the fire, but his position was, in the stories, usurped by another undead. But, this isn't a story, so Oscar is in fact the Chosen Undead, and is in fact supposed to link the fire. Now, end of story, any questions?"

Oscar seems satisfied, as am I, but the questions I have…

"What exactly are we supposed to do?"

Obsidian laughs. Both me and Oscar look at him quizzically.

"Of course, I was stupid enough not to mention that. There are two Bells of Awakening that need ringing. One, of course, is above ground, in the castle-town up there." Obsidian points to a large castle roughly above us. "The bell is at the top of a church, and is guarded by a pair of gargoyles. The other bell is below ground, in Blighttown." Oscar shivers. Apparently, that place has a bad reputation. "The bell is guarded by one of the daughters of Izalith, specifically Qualag."

Obsidian glances around at the three of us, and he comes to a decision.

"Alright, we should go ring the bell above ground first, then proceed to Blighttown via Darkroot Garden." Obsidian gets up. "We'll proceed when the two of you are ready. I need to kill something hollow, and there are a few hollow soldiers up in the castle."

Obsidian walks out of Firelink, leaving me and Oscar alone.

"Is Obsidian always like this?"

Oscar, I'm not too sure. His time away changed him, it would seem.

"Apparently. You'll get used to it." I sigh. "He's a good dragon at heart, since he usually puts the needs of others before his own. He's just… well, he hasn't been the same since he returned from his trip."

"Trip?"

If I could see Oscar's face, he'd probably be raising an eyebrow. That's what cheetahs do when they're confused, or asking a question.

"He left to pursue some God of Fate by the name of Talmaris a few months back, leaving me a letter, and something to remember him with. He arrived back home just in time to stop my suicide."

Oscar puts his weapons down, and takes off his helmet. I get quite a shock when I see what is underneath.

"You're a hollow?!"

I'm shocked. I thought Oscar wouldn't be-

"No, just close to it. I haven't been close enough to a bonfire to reverse the hollowing up until now."

"Reverse the hollowing? How?"

Oscar smiles, although it is hard to tell, and he kneels at the bonfire like a knight to a king. He raises his hand, and a small black sprite appears above it, hovering calmly. A flame licks up the sprite, and something miraculous happens. A white energy flows over Oscar, and his wrinkled features slowly turn young again. Before I know what is going on, a furless ape, similar to the one Obsidian threw off the cliff, is sitting in front of me.

"How?!"

I don't have the words, but apparently Oscar does.

"I offered some of my Humanity to the bonfire, and in return it reversed my hollowing."

I hear footsteps, and a black paw rests on my front-right shoulder. I look behind me, and Obsidian is standing there, smiling.

"Get some sleep, both of you. I'll watch for stray hollows."

 **And… that is the end of this chapter. I've probably butchered it, but oh well, better to believe that you did poorly, then to refuse to accept the fact.**

 **Yes, Obsidian never explained why he threw the crestfallen warrior off the ledge, and he intended to avoid that. If you've played Dark Souls, you already know why he threw him off. If not, then that's your choice.**

 **The large bit in italics at the beginning of the chapter? That's a new addition. The comments of Obsidian's future self when he looks back upon his memories. There should be one every chapter from now on.**

 **Again, feel free to send me requests. I am accepting OCs, but only so many of them. Slot 1 has already been taken by the user balance99. I'm accepting two more OCs, so if you have one for me to implement, be quick about your request.**

 **Until next time…**


	4. 3: Hell

**Chapter 3: Hell**

 **And we're back. Again. I'm sorry for the rather long wait, but I hit writer's block multiple times while writing this.**

 **The second OC has been taken by the guest R.K. I'm accepting one more OC, so if you have one you want me to use, tell me quickly.**

 **Now, on with the show.**

 _Mercy is a peculiar concept. The idea of granting mercy has confused me for the last few hundred years. Is it sparing the helpless prisoner as he pleads for his life? Is it killing the madman, stopping him from hurting his loved ones? Looking back upon my life, it is both, and neither. Both, because they are both acts of kindness towards beings who are at my mercy. Neither, because by sparing or killing, respectively, could lead to the deaths of many others. What then, is true mercy? A concept that has always eluded me, that is what._

 _Back then, I was merciless. I killed without hesitation, without remorse. I thought I was doing the right thing, that killing the soulless hollows in front of me was mercy. I was wrong. Killing without remorse is never mercy, but pleasure. I secretly enjoyed killing, although I would not admit it to anyone. That is what lead me to this path, in the end. My merciless slaughter was, ironically, what lead me to my current position as Void-Master._

 _While I never truly learned the meaning of mercy, what I have learned is what a lack of mercy truly means for the world. I have seen countless timelines destroyed by merciless individuals. Without mercy, all we have are monsters. Not humans, dragons, or even animals. Just monsters who kill without remorse. I know, because I was one, once._

(Obsidian's POV)

I pant as I decapitate what feels like the hundredth hollow in the Undead Burg. It wouldn't be so bad, if the Undead Burg wasn't so massive. Seriously, I know there isn't any major differences between this place and the games, but still, it feels larger when you're actually there!

I turn around, and I find that Firana has saved my life again. A hollow lies dead behind me, still burning from Firana's fire breath. I launch my own fireball behind Firana, and it explodes on a hollow knight, killing it instantly. I look to my left, and Oscar kills the last hollow in the area via a parry-riposte. I smile. I remember how long it took me to get good at parrying in Dark Souls, and honestly, I'm kind of impressed Oscar managed to pull one off.

I walk towards the elite knight just as he's pulling his sword out from the dead hollow. I rest Nifred on the ground, tired for the first time since... I can't even remember.

"Nicely done, Oscar."

The knight nods, before sheathing his sword. I walk through the familiar door in front of me, and climb up the stairs. Oscar runs forward, his full Estus flask dangling from his belt. I suddenly remember something important. I glance to the left, and sure enough, a certain red Hellkite is flying this way.

 **"GET CLEAR!"**

I run towards Oscar, and throw him back _just_ as the Hellkite smashes the bridge with paw, flattening me in an instant, before taking off again.

"Obsidian!"

Firana runs towards me, panic showing on her face. I manage to crawl onto all fours, my back screaming in protest. THAT had hurt. A lot. A lot more than I was expecting, to be honest. If only my memory wasn't useless, I might have remembered that _before_ Oscar nearly died. Thus, is the folly of me.

"Ow..." My front left leg bends slightly as I turn towards Firana. I can almost feel my spine crack as I turn. "That was painful." I try to get on my hind legs again, but I collapse. Oscar runs towards me, and pulls out his Estus flask. I shake my head. "It only works for Undead."

I get onto all fours again, and I painfully hand Nifred to Oscar. The Undead knight barely manages to lift the ebony glaive. Apparently that thing weighs at least half a tonne.

I take a step forward, and I stumble, nearly falling. Firana catches me with her tail. I look at her face, and I can see a lot of concern and fear in the red eyes in front of me.

"Obsidian, are you alright?"

I shake my head.

"Damn Hellkite landed right on my spine. It'll take a couple of months to heal naturally, but if we can find a cleric, it should be fine."

"Cleric?"

"A servant of the Gods." Oscar answers for me. "They conjure healing miracles through their faith, some of which can mend shattered bones."

"Gods? Miracles?"

Firana, is that tone of disbelief really needed?

"Figures of power who have long since passed away." I begin to explain. "Those who still live teach miracles in the form of tales which, when memorised, allow one to conjure powerful magical effects, like spears of pure lightning, or a powerful healing aura."

Firana nods, accepting the explanation. I start walking in the direction of the next bonfire, hoping against hope that summon signs exist...

(Time skip)

As soon as Oscar and Firana finish clearing this specific area of hollows, I limp towards the visible Bonfire, before sitting down next to it. Well... 'sitting down' is a bit generous. 'Collapsing' would probably be a more accurate way of putting it.

Firana sits down next to me, and Oscar stands up next to the Coiled Sword implanted in the Bonfire. The ashen bones piled beneath the sword burst into flames, the heat expanding outwards, and re-invigorating the three of us. The pain flaring through my body dims, slowly fading as the Bonfire's heat heals my wounds. I glance at Firana, and she is experiencing the same effect. The cuts and arrow wounds covering her are closing.

I sigh, and I glance at the sky. The sun has started setting, but we've probably got enough time to get to the Taurus Demon guarding a certain bridge. I hope.

"You alright, Firana?"

That was Oscar. Seems like he's getting used to our company.

"Fine, thanks. What about you, Obsidian?"

I flex my left wing, and while pain still flares through my back, it is not as severe as it would have been five minutes ago.

"I'll still need a cleric, but at least the pain has dulled."

Firana visibly smiles, and Oscar passes me back Nifred.

"We'd best get moving again." Perceptive, Oscar, really perceptive. "We've got a bell to ring."

I nod, and get onto my hind legs. Pain once again flares up my back, but at least it's bearable now. I grip Nifred, and bring myself into my 'passive' stance. It's Lordran, after all, THE most unforgiving place in video game history, so I'm taking zero chances.

Oscar and Firana get to their feet/paws too, and, once again, we set off...

(Time skip)

After fighting our way through hordes of hollow soldiers, we're finally at the bridge guarded by a certain Taurus Demon. My left wing membrane was cut open by a lucky hollow on the way here, so flight is currently out of the question, but it shouldn't matter.

I turn towards Firana and Oscar, who are currently behind me.

"Alright. Just behind the tower over there," I point towards the tower at the other end of the bridge. "is a Taurus Demon, which will leap over as soon as we get close to the other side. Above us," I gesture towards the tower we're currently underneath. "there are two hollow crossbowmen. My plan is that Firana takes those two out, and launches fireballs at the demon while me and Oscar fight it in close combat. Any objections?"

Oscar has plenty.

"You want me to fight a TAURUS demon in CLOSE COMBAT?! Have you gone hollow?"

I give Oscar a lethal look.

"Firstly, yes, and secondly, no. The demon will be distracted by Firana's fireballs, which will allow us to kill it. I know, resistant to fire, shut up, I'm not stupid, idiotic, hollow, or mad. Besides, how else are you going to get stronger?"

Oscar grunts, defeated, and I step onto the bridge. Firana flies upwards onto the tower, and if the hollow screams are anything to go by, she's doing great.

"CLEAR!"

Yup, Firana is in fact doing great.

I walk out onto the bridge, Oscar following slightly behind me. I prepare Nifred, switching into an 'open guard' as I like to call it, glaive at my side, slightly behind me, and held in my right hand. Just as I step onto the centre of the bridge, I hear a demonic roar, and as predicted, a Taurus Demon leaps over the tower opposite me, and lands about 10 metres in front of me.

In the flesh, a Taurus Demon is much more intimidating than in the games. A giant axe that looks like it weighs a ton, a skull that reminds me of a LOTR Balrog, and those eyes are... unsettling, to say the least. Looking over the beast more carefully, it is extremely muscular, more so than the giant apes back in the Dragon Realms, so I probably won't be able to block the axe. That tail fur looks rather flammable, but considering the origin of this creature, it is probably immune to fire.

Before I get a chance to figure out a solid approach to this fight, I spot a giant axe being swung downwards towards me at a scary speed. I jump to the left, avoiding the blow by a hair's breadth. Oscar jumps towards the demon, and I use the flat end of Nifred to boost his jump height. The knight of Astora falls on the demon, and stabs it in the head with his sword, before jumping off, the demon reeling from the blow. I take advantage of the opening and stab the Taurus Demon in the knee, and a fireball hits the demon between the eyes, blinding it, and bringing it to its knees.

I level Nifred with the forehead of the beast, I pull back for a stab, and... I hesitate.

In those deformed, demonic eyes, I can see something familiar. I shake my head, before stepping back. Oscar steps forward, and plunges his sword into the forehead of the demon. I look away. I saw an intelligence in those demonic eyes, I'm sure of it.

I hear Oscar pull his sword out of the head of the demon, and I look back. The Taurus Demon disintegrates into particles. I glance back at Firana. She looked away too.

It seems dragons have more in common with demons than most people think.

(Time skip)

I throw more salvaged wood on the fire. Night time hit shortly after we killed the Taurus Demon, so I pulled some logs from the nearby buildings, and started a fire. Oscar and Firana are chatting happily next to it. I sigh, and walk towards the tower with the ladder on it, before climbing up. I use my cursed fires to heat up the ground beneath me, and I settle down onto them as comfortably as possible. I gaze at the crescent moon, and my thoughts drift back to the Dragon Realms, and my friend Mithril. I miss him, no I don't care about him in _that_ way you perverts, but I still miss him. He was the first friend I ever had, and the only friend I had since Mum and Dad passed away. I suppose it's natural.

I bring my left paw up, and focus my power towards it. A warm, cursed flame bursts from my claws, and engulfs my arm. I sigh in relief, the fires warming my scales. The nights here are cold, and being able to produce my own heat is comforting, to say the least.

"What are you doing up here, Obsidian?"

I turn around, and I spot Firana. She looks concerned, but... well, considering everything we've been through today, that is allowed.

"Thinking."

I sigh, before shifting my gaze back towards the moon. Beautiful, more so than the moons back in the Dragon Realms, and it gives off a gentle purple glow.

"Thinking?" Firana playfully nudges my right wing with hers. Pain flares through my back, but I don't let it show. "Could you at least think back at the fire? I don't want you getting killed by hollows halfway through the night."

I shake my head.

"I need to keep a clear head, and Oscar doesn't help there."

Firana walks up to me, before settling down on my right.

"True, he's very grim, but you can be too." I lower my gaze from the moon, and stare at Firana, my right eye widened in a questioning way. "What? Remember, back at the Siege of Warfang?"

I would facepalm, but... I'm preoccupied with a conversation.

"How could I forget it? I was only at the centre of it all, you know."

"Yes, you were. And while the siege took place, you were nothing other than serious, except for one or two times. Like Oscar." I sigh. Firana has a point. Speaking of Firana, she snuggles closer to me, before nudging my left paw. I bring the cursed flame towards Firana and she gazes into it, enthralled by the darkness surrounding the orange fires. Firana sighs, before looking me in the eye. "You know, you don't have to fight alone all the time. I saw how you fought that Asylum Demon, and I saw you in the Siege of Warfang. You're downright suicidal in combat, for goodness sake! You almost got yourself killed!"

"I did." I interrupt Firana. "Talmaris beheaded me during our final battle. The second most painful thing in my life."

"What was the most painful?"

Firana seems to be asking out of curiosity instead of playfulness, so I might as well answer.

"Re-attaching my head to my body."

"Really?" Firana's voice takes on a playful tone. "Not leaving your friends for revenge? Not sitting in that painful armour every single day? Just re-attaching your head to your body?"

I nod.

"Worst day of my life." I mumble this under my breath, and Firana giggles. "Hey! I've been through a lot!"

"Sure you have..." EXCUSE ME, miss dragoness, but sarcasm is MY thing, not yours. "Either way, you should get that armour off. You must be getting tired of the pain."

I shake my head.

"Honestly, compared to some of the wounds I've received, this armour is nothing."

"Compared to? So, it is still horribly painful?" I sigh, and reluctantly nod my head. "Then take a break, you've earned it."

I smile, and start unbuckling my armour. The 4 leg plates came off first, followed by the armour surrounding my wing joints, and finally, my chest-plate. When I look down at myself... I am horrified.

Underneath my armour, my scales have been scarred beyond recognition. The once ebony scales are now cut, smashed, and brittle. My black blood pours from multiple gaping wounds, staining the stone floor of the tower. And out of one particular wound, I can see... you know what, it is too gruesome to mention. I'll let you fill in the blanks.

Firana gasps when she sees what is underneath my armour, and promptly pukes. I laugh at that, and Firana gives me an angry stare, before proceeding to vomit up the rest of her dinner.

After Firana wipes the contents of her stomach off her maw, she turns back towards me, eyes filled with pity. A silver claw carefully pokes my largest wound, earning a slight growl from my throat. Firana, undeterred, hands me a golden bottle.

"Oscar gave it to me. He said that if you had bad wounds, this would take care of them."

I examine the bottle, before a gasp escapes my maw. I recognise this. THIS is a _divine blessing_ , one of the rarest items in Lordran. Blessed by the Princess of Sunlight herself, it can instantly cure any ailment or wound.

I eagerly open the top of the bottle, and pour the contents down my throat. A sheer pain wracks my body, and I fight the urge not to scream. Firana must have noticed, because she walked closer to me, concern showing on her face.

After about five minutes of pure agony, the pain fades. I look down at myself again, and the divine blessing did its job. All of my wounds, including that spinal injury from the Hellkite, are gone. My eyes look up at Firana, who is staring at me in amazement.

"...How?!"

I sigh, deciding to wait on explanations.

"Don't question it."

Me and Firana sit next to each other for about an hour, talking occasionally. With my wounds and pain gone, I can finally focus properly, and... well, I didn't notice up until now, but Firana seems to have grown since I last saw her. Her scales have gotten more shiny, her horns larger, and her broken tail blade is starting to heal. A smile graces my maw, but after that... well, I begin to notice... _other_ things. Firana seems to have gotten, well... _curvier_ since I last saw her, and her wings are much larger.

I quickly turn my head away, trying to look inconspicuous, but unfortunately Firana caught me staring. The red dragoness smiles, before giving me a playful nudge.

"You looking at something interesting, Obsidian?"

I avoid eye contact with Firana, whistling in a passive and annoying way. I spare a glance at Firana, and she still has that smile on her face. A sudden, obvious discomfort registers in my brain. The dragoness to my right somehow catches on, and her smile turns into, dare I say it, a more _seductive_ smile.

Blood rushes completely to my eyes, but I can tell that it isn't in anger. Firana notices too, and giggles. Probably my equivalent of a blush. DAMMIT, my own body is betraying me. Firana shifts herself slightly closer too me, to the point where our scales and wings are touching.

I stare at the dragoness to my right.

"What has gotten into you, Firana?"

The dragoness smiles.

"First of all, two Question." Okay... "Firstly, are we still a thing?"

I roll my eyes.

"Of course we are still a thing, Firana."

The dragoness' smile grows.

"Now, secondly, would you like to seal the deal, so to speak?"

It takes a moment for me to realise what Firana is suggesting, but when I realise it, both my eyes fill with so much blood I actually can't see.

"Well, err... that's... erm..."

Firana's gaze turns sour.

"Or has someone else caught your eye?"

All the heat leaves my body as soon as that question hits my ears.

"Err... no, you're the only one who has 'caught my eye'

"Good." A sigh of relief escapes both our maws. "So, back to the question, would you like to-"

I sigh, deciding on my answer. After all, I can't seal anything if I die later on, can I?

 **Alright, whatever made me think that writing was a good idea, well you were bang on the money but still, BURN IN HELL, THAT WAS DIFFICULT TO WRITE!**

 **Yes, that is... now a thing... apparently. I'll leave the details to your imagination, for now at least, but later... well, no promises.**

 **As stated previously, I'm open to literally all requests. I may decline politely, but I am still open to literally all requests, so make them. I've got a lot of chapters to go, and probably about another 50000 words, so I can probably put in a request or 50 somewhere in there.**

 **Until next time...**


	5. 4: Darkness

**Chapter 4: Darkness**

 **Well, I'm back again, and unfortunately not much better. I've had to skip sleep for the past couple of nights due to difficulties that have come up, so... well, if this chapter turns into more of a butcher's house than a chapter, I'll blame my lack of sleep.**

 **Now, on with the show before I completely lose my mind.  
**

 _Memory is a precious thing. One that I lost long ago. I left pieces of myself behind on my journey, memories of my short mortal life that are unfit for an immortal to bear. And yet... I still carry a few with me. The weight burns my mind to this day, to the point where I am barely conscious. But... would I trade the memories of my mortal life, in exchange for full consciousness? Or even in exchange for true death? No. I would rather go hollow._

 _Despite the weight on my mind, I can clearly remember all the important parts of my journeys. My first death after I was Branded. Killing Hellkite. Facing Artorias in the ruins of Oolacile. And... although I can barely remember... my second separation from Firana. That last one... without it, I would not be who I am today. Maybe I would have lived a peaceful life, returned to the Dragon Realms, raised a family... but we can never know what would have happened._

(Firana's POV)

I wake up to the morning sun shining down on both me and Obsidian, basking us in its radiant light. I smile, letting the warmth of the sun fill my body, before I try to get up. But... for some strange reason, I can't. I glance down, and I realise that I am, or was, lying on Obsidian. His tail is currently entwined with mine, keeping me from getting up. Slowly, the memories of last night return to me. I almost think it's too good to be true, but if the black dragon lying on his back beneath me is anything to go by... well... I don't know what to say, really.

Being careful not to wake Obsidian, I untangle his tail from mine, and step off him. The black dragon stirs when my weight shifts from on him to on the ground, mumbling something about warmth, before he falls back into his deep sleep. I walk towards the edge of the tower, and take off. I've always found that a morning flight helps wake me up properly, and since food isn't available in the city/town, I need to hunt anyway.

After a couple of minutes, I spot a deer running below me on some plains. I dive, and tackle the deer at breakneck speeds, before plunging my fangs into the neck of the poor beast, killing it instantly.

I am about to fly off with my kill, when I hear a growl behind me. I turn around slowly, and lo and behold, a two legged, two armed, feathered dragon with extremely small wings is staring hungrily at my catch. I growl back, baring my teeth. The dragon advances, before pulling a Bastard Sword from his back, and leveling it at me. The blade is rippling with electrical energy. I back up slightly, growling louder. I grip the dead deer with my front paws. After about five seconds of our stare-down, I take off, deer in paw.

Unfortunately, the dragon had other plans. A lightning bolt hits my left wing, paralysing it. I fall to the ground fast, creating a small impact crater when I land. I try to get up, but my left hind leg has gotten stuck under the deer.

The dragon walks towards me, and another lightning bolt appears in his left paw. I growl, and ready a fireball. I'm not going down without a fight.

Just before either of us can make a move, a familiar cursed fireball impacts the dragon advancing on me. A draconic figure lands, glaive first, in the centre of the impact site.

Obsidian, in his full ebony armour set, walks towards the dragon. The beast backs off slightly, realising it is outmatched, before fleeing, tail literally between his legs. Obsidian sighs, before turning towards me. I open my maw, but no words come out. The black dragon in front of me gestures to the carcass on my left hind leg.

"You need some help with that, Firana?"

(Time skip)

(Obsidian's POV)

I land next next to the burnt out fire, and I place both Firana and her catch on the ground next to it. Oscar jumps awake, startled, before realising that it's just us. Oscar sits down, and uses some spare wood to get the fire going again. I tear off a couple of chunks for me and Firana, before putting the rest of the corpse above the flames. Firana sits down next to me, with Oscar opposite us.

"Sleep well, Oscar?"

The elite knight nods his head when I ask that question.

"Yes, no thanks to you two."

I raise my left eye in suspicion. I know exactly what he is talking about, but it is best to play dumb for the moment.

"Why on earth would that be?"

Oscar sighs.

"I heard you two last night. I had to sleep with my helmet on, just to keep out the noise."

Firana seems confused for a moment, before her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red than usual. My own eyes fill with blood in embarrassment, but I try to play it off.

"You certain you weren't hearing things?" Oscar tilts his head towards me, and if I could have seen underneath his helmet, I would have probably seen a bored expression. "Alright, alright, you weren't hearing things, sorry about that."

"Obsidian!"

Firana's tail blade slaps me on my cheek.

"What was that for?!"

"You just told him what we did last night, for goodness sake!"

"Oscar would have found out anyway."

I mean, we weren't exactly quiet. As in, I was quiet, but Firana couldn't keep her maw shut.

"So?!"

I sigh. This is going nowhere.

"So, shut up, and start eating."

(Time skip)

Long story short, Firana let go that little incident, ate her deer, and we're now walking up the steps to the bridge where we should find Solaire of Astora. When we reach the top, I don't bother opening the door, instead bashing it open with a fist rather loudly. The door flies open, and me, Oscar, and Firana walk out. I turn towards the gate leading to the Undead Parish, and sure enough, Hellkite is on top of it. I snarl. I still owe that thing payback for that spinal injury. But, before I do that...

"Oscar, Firana, stay here. There's someone behind us I'd like to meet. Alone."

I walk away from the gate, and towards the rising sun. Sure enough, Solaire of Astora, warrior of sunlight, is staring at the rising beacon above us. I walk next to the knight, before giving him a greeting.

"Hello."

"Ah, hello."

Solaire turns his head towards me, before jumping back, and drawing his sword.

"Woah, hold on there, sir. I am NOT your enemy." Considering the drawn sword, Solaire is unconvinced. "If I was your enemy, I would have stabbed you in the back when I first met you."

Solaire considers this, before sheathing his sword.

"My apologies." I nod, accepting the apology. "Now, introductions. I am Solaire of Astora, adherent to the Lord of Sunlight!"

I smile, remembering my meeting with Solaire in Dark Souls.

"Obsidian of Warfang, Morgul Warrior. A pleasure."

"Morgul?"

"Dark Sorcerer. Not by choice, though." I mention that last bit to prevent Solaire from turning completely hostile. "I needed the power to protect Warfang from invasion, not that I succeeded, and now the darkness is stuck in me for good."

Solaire nods, before turning back towards the sun.

"I see, _Dark Sorcerer._ "

The venom in Solaire's voice is unmistakable.

"OBSIDIAN!"

I'd recognise that voice anywhere, and that tone. I take off, pain flaring through my torn wing, and just as I thought, Hellkite is attempting to roast Firana and Oscar from the air. I growl slightly in anger, and throw Nifred at the beast, aiming for the wing joint. My thrown glaive hits its mark, and Hellkite hits the bridge head first. I land on top of it, next to where Nifred is implanted in Hellkite, and pull my weapon out while simultaneously twisting it. Hellkite lets out a roar of pain, and I allow a grim smile to cross my face.

I leap off the back of Hellkite, coming face-to-face with the beast. It would seem like Oscar and Firana did a number on this thing when he landed, because claw and blade marks cover the face of the red drake. Both me and Hellkite stare at each other for a solid minute, each probing each other for weakness.

After what felt like an eternity, I broke the trance I was in, and launched a cursed fireball out of my maw. Hellkite, unable do dodge, launches a stream of normal flames out of his maw. My small, dark fireball is nothing compared to true flames, as it is consumed by the fires of the red drake. I extend my wings to their full length, blocking the flames, and preventing them from scorching Firana and Oscar. Pain flares through my entire body as it is incinerated by the fires of Hellkite. I barely hold my ground, the force of the stream of fire putting an incredible strain on my body.

When the flames subside, I fall to one knee, pain burning through every fibre of my being. Firana rushes to my side, concerned, but I raise a paw, stopping Firana in her tracks. I get up again, a look of grim determination and suicidal intent on my face. I tap into my dark power, forcing it to enhance my body through sheer willpower alone. Blood rushes to my eyes, enhancing my vision tenfold. A dark mist seeps from my scales, and I let out a scream of pain and hatred.

 **"TOL ARCHAN!"**

I throw myself at Hellkite, Nifred burning with my cursed flames. The red drake is too large and slow to react in time. My blade is buried in the chest of Hellkite, but I don't stop there. I let go of Nifred, cursed fires evaporating from the weapon in an instant, and I land on all fours. Before I know what I'm doing, I launch a stream of cursed flames towards Hellkite. Once again, the beast counters with his own stream of fire, but this time... this time he has a punctured lung. My darkened flames easily overpower the pathetic flames from Hellkite's maw, and engulfs the red drake.

After about thirty seconds, my lungs finally give up, and I hit the ground, exhausted. The smoke surrounding Hellkite begins to clear, and I fall unconscious...

(Firana's POV)

I stand in awe as I watch Obsidian overpower the red drake in front of us, slowly obliterating the creature with a stream of cursed flames. Even when I can clearly see the beast dead, Obsidian doesn't stop, darkened orange fires enveloping and incinerating the fresh corpse.

Eventually, Obsidian's lungs give up, and he collapses. He raises his head just in time to see the smoke clear, but unfortunately the black dragon falls unconscious before he can clearly see the results of his efforts. The dark mist escaping from between Obsidian's scales disappears.

"'Sidian!"

I rush towards Obsidian, using my pet name for him for the first time since we arrived in this place. Unfortunately, just as I reach the black dragon, a pure black energy knocks me backwards. I get up, and look at Oscar. He's drawing his weapon, but is clearly afraid. When I look back at Obsidian, I see why. A purple and black mist has appeared in front of Obsidian. A giant, furred hand appears, grabs Obsidian, and drags him through the mist. The dark energies dissipate quickly, and I rush towards the spot Obsidian was at moments ago.

"No..." I can't believe it. A few days after being reunited with Obsidian, and he's snatched away by... that thing! "no, not again, not after all this time...!"

I feel a metal hand grip me on my shoulder. When I look over it, I spot a knight with a sun on his chest. He shakes his head, and I finally realise what he thinks happened to Obsidian.

I break into tears. After three months, Obsidian comes back to me, only to be taken away again by whatever dark power I just saw. I can't believe he's dead... but...

"Firana." That was Oscar. "I'm sorry."

 **And... that wraps up this chapter! I know, the Manus portal was uncalled for, and doesn't make sense yet because Obsidian didn't have a certain pendant, but I promise, everything will be explained in time. Unless you want an explanation now, in which case, PM me, and I'll give you the best response I can without giving away any major spoilers.**

 **On a side note, those of you who have played the Dark Souls Artorias DLC will probably think they know exactly what is coming next... but I guarantee you, it is not what you'd expect. Except for the bit with Artorias, probably, but I've got plans for everything else.**

 **Until next time...**


	6. 5: Darkened Fires

**Chapter 5: Darkened Fires**

 **Right, after what feels like a millennium, I'm back with another complete mess of a chapter. I've had a lot of problems recently, starting with me being unable to view reviews, and ending with... I'm not sure. Probably multiple different forms of insanity. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes.**

 **For those of you who are thinking of leaving reviews, please keep them civil. I haven't had any 'flames' yet, but the paranoid often survive longer than the sane... that's quite good, actually. Remind me to use that some time in the future.**

 **Also, in the last chapter, I didn't explain how Solaire got to that particular location because it is explained by Solaire himself in Dark Souls, which he wouldn't be willing to do towards someone on the darker side of the spectrum.**

 **And finally, for those of you who were confused about why Firana recognised the weapon used by the half-dragon half-undead in the last chapter, it is because a Bastard Sword is a classification of a weapon, not a specific 'species', if you will, of weapon unique to Dark Souls. Firana would have likely seen metal weapons, including multiple versions of sword, including Bastard Swords, during her time in Warfang. Notice the use of the word 'likely'...**

 **Anyhow, enough of my mindless ranting, enjoy!**

 _Anger, rage, pain, hatred, sadness, despair, fear... I draw strength from these negative emotions. I feed off them. But it is from my own emotion that I draw the majority of my power. My own anger, rage, pain, hatred, sadness, and despair, all fuel me. Some might call me a villain for drawing my power from negative emotions. The truth... I am more of a monster than a hero, but that is because of my principles, not my power. I am willing to torture, maim, and kill. But I only ever take pleasure in those actions when I am angry, or in intense pain. When I am doing it for revenge._

 _Revenge. I have had plenty of it, but it is a bitter-sweet cup from which to drink. When you achieve vengeance on the one who wronged you, the need for revenge leaves, but so does the drive to continue on your path. Most would discontinue, and go back to their lives. I didn't. I found another reason to continue down the path of darkness. What is that reason, you ask? It is a simple one, all things considered._

 _I found comfort in the pain._

(Obsidian's POV)

 _(Nightmare)_

 _I walk through the darkened wasteland, searching for something, someone. But no matter how long I search, I can never find them. No matter how many ash dunes I overturn, I never find a body. I have wandered for what feels like an eternity, but there have not even been hints to her location. But I don't give up. I can't. The loss of that one, final fragment of hope would destroy me._

 _After wandering for so long my four paws ache, I finally find something. A destroyed statue. I run towards it, hope blossoming in my heart, but I am stopped in my tracks when a red and silver dragoness materialises in front of me. The dragoness I have been searching for._

 _I open my maw, but no words come out of it. Firana stares at me, her eyes filled with remorse._

 _"I am sorry, Obsidian. You failed me."_

 _I shake my head in disbelief._

 _"How?! I have searched eons for you! How can I have failed you, when I have only just been reunited with you?!"_

 _"You are too late." Firana begins to dissolve. "We are already dead."_

 _"NO!"_

 _I claw helplessly at the mist that was once Firana, but it dissipates moments before I can clutch it. My gaze falls to the ruined statue. I notice something there, but I can't make out what. I walk slowly towards the statue, and my fears are confirmed... and they also dissipate._

 _Firana lies dead at the base of the statue, maggots already clawing at her dead flesh. A tear streams down my face. I was too late. By mere minutes. But... Firana is on top of something._

 _I carefully, and respectfully, move Firana off her perch, and gasp, tears steaming down my face. Underneath Firana... is a single, black egg._

 _A final tear escapes from my eye, and I glance at my tail blade. I bring it down upon the egg, as if Firana couldn't make it in this world, a hatchling would have no chance. The egg shatters, revealing an empty void inside it. Not even an embryo. I bring my tail blade to my own neck. It won't do me any good, but... at least it will honour Firana..._

(Reality)

"FIRANA!"

I jump awake, fear gripping every fibre of my being. It takes a couple of moments, but I eventually realise that it was just a dream. I lean backwards onto the tree root behind me, gathering my memories.

I jump again, looking at my surroundings. A cave, with tree roots surrounding me, one tunnel visible opposite me, and an unlit bonfire in the centre of the room. I start breathing heavily, and I approach the bonfire. I extend my paw towards it, and the ash at the base of the coiled sword bursts into flames. I sit down, and the many burns I received from Hellkite slowly start to fade. I sigh.

The memory of what happened after I killed Hellkite eludes me, preventing me from understanding the situation. I know I killed the drake, I'm sure of it... and yet, the memory of that event is nothing but pure rage, the likes of which has never consumed me before. Probably this world getting to me. I've likely got multiple different types of mental disorders at this point.

HAH! What am I thinking? EVERYONE in Lordran goes insane at some point. Even Gwyn went insane, in the end. I'm not even sure I'm thinking coherently anymore. Not that it matters. Right now, all that matters is figuring out what has happened to me.

I get up, grab Nifred, and start walking down the only tunnel here. I don't recognise this place. I've played Dark Souls one, and I watched enough lore videos on the DLC to know that I'm in Dark Souls DLC land... but since I never played around in Dark Souls DLC land, I'm probably going to be worthless.

After a whole ten seconds of walking, I reach the end of the tunnel, which opens up into a clearing... a clearing with a rather large white manticore in it! I swap to a two-handed grip on Nifred, and I advance cautiously. This is Dark Souls, after all...

As soon as my foot enters the clearing, the manticore roars, and launches a rather large blast of lightning at me. I jump to my left, narrowly avoiding the obviously lethal blow, but I still feel the static charge when the lightning passes me. I turn around towards the white beast, only to find it about two inches from my face. The charging manticore hits me head on, and I'm sent flying into the rock wall surrounding the clearing. I plant Nifred in the ground, and use it as a crutch to get up on. Pain wracks my entire being.

The manticore, seemingly satisfied with my inability to fight back, starts strafing, growls and snarls taunting me. I get onto my hind legs, glaive in my right paw, and I start circling the beast. The impact with the rock wall broke both of my wings, so I use the pain to summon my corrupted fires. A dark mist escapes from my maw, and I snarl. The manticore, finally realising what it is up against, backs up, before doing its' best impression of a Gatling Gun, launching multiple lightning blasts at me in quick succession.

Adrenalin coursing through my body, I leap to the left, narrowly avoiding the first two blasts, and I block the third one with the tip of Nifred. Not giving the manticore time to respond, I charge at the white beast.

 **"TOL ARCHAN!"**

The manticore is thrown off by my battle cry, giving me a window of opportunity. I slash at the beast with Nifred the moment I come within range, tearing through its left eye. The manticore staggers in pain. Not giving it any more time to respond, I open my maw, and launch a cursed fireball at it. The dark explosion knocks me backwards, and I hit the rock wall, broken wings first. I gasp in pain for the first time since I was turned into a dragon, before getting back into my battle position.

The manticore is much worse off than I am. What was once white fur has been charred black, and three of its four wings are missing. The creature snarls at me, revealing charred teeth. I smile evilly. This should be easy... right?

I throw Nifred at the manticore, who, in its injured state, can't dodge it. The blade ends up in the beasts' remaining eye, blinding it. The manticore starts thrashing wildly, panicking. I walk slowly towards it, and I grab, twist, and pull out Nifred. Blood pours from the ruined eye of the manticore. It thrashes some more, before collapsing, lying still... and FINALLY dying.

I allow my cursed fires to dim, blood slowly leaving my eyes. I sigh in pain, and I walk towards the exit of this obvious boss arena. I immediately spot another Bonfire, surrounded by statues, and I rush towards it. I light the coiled sword with an extended paw, and I sit down. The heat from the bonfire snaps the bones of my wings back into place. I flinch when I feel said bones snap together, eventually forming complete, undamaged wings. The pain in my body slowly fades, and I get up.

I look to my left, and I spot a rather large mushroom with eyes. Eyes which are currently staring at me. I walk towards the mushroom cautiously. When I get within a metre of the mushroom, it starts speaking, despite the fact that it lacks a mouth.

"Well, look at this one. From what far away age hast thou come? Thy scent is very dark indeed... but not intolerable." Why is it I'm suddenly struck by the desire to mutilate this mushroom? "Art thou a follower of the Path of the Dragon?"

I give this talking mushroom a shake of the head.

"No, I am not."

"Then art thou like Seath, a dragon capable of coherent thought and speech?"

I unconsciously growl.

"Seath? A traitor to his own kind? No, I am not."

The mushroom gives me a disbelieving look.

"Then what art thou?"

I sigh.

"My name is Obsidian. As for what I am, even I'm not entirely sure. Probably a dark dragon of some description or another." I pause, deciding to ask a couple of questions of my own. "Anyhow, have you seen a red dragoness recently? She would be small, for a dragon, about the size of a human."

The mushroom shakes its 'head'.

"I have not seen a dragoness of that description, dragon." I sigh. So Firana wasn't dragged here with me. "However, a blue dragoness, roughly the size thou hast described, passed through here a couple of hours ago." WHAT? "A few hours before, sir Artorias passed through as well. Perhaps they might be able to help?"

I smile, and nod my head in appreciation.

"Thank you, err... did you ever mention your name?"

"Sorry, my manners must be deteriorating. I am Elizabeth, guardian of this sanctuary."

I nod.

"I see. Thank you, Elizabeth."

I turn away, and I walk towards the entrance to what is clearly a forest. I can't believe it! Manus actually dragged me to BEFORE Artorias was corrupted by the abyss! I would say that it's a miracle, but if it were, I would probably be throwing lightning spears right now.

I smile, standing in front of the entrance to the forest. This is going to be a long walk... but it should be worth it.

 **And... cut! End of chapter! I know, my attempt at this chapter was like doing brain surgery with a chainsaw, but at least I got a chapter out at all... that is a good thing, right?**

 **Now, to the guest R.K, since I didn't give a reply to your most recent review in the opening A/N, I have thought about Fallout 4 and Skyrim. Fallout 4 is entirely out of the question, simply due to my disgust towards some of the concepts used in it, but The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim has been added to the list. It's a very long list, but I'll get to it eventually.**

 **Until next time...**


	7. 6: Meeting (un)Death

**Chapter 6: Meeting (un)Death**

 **Right, I'm back with another chapter, blah blah blah, insert filler A/N here, etc. I'm just going to get on with the show before I go insane... if I'm not already insane.**

 **Actually, on a side note, I'm going to be introducing one of the OCs people sent me within the next couple of chapters. I'll be starting with the one from the guest R.K, since the latter is going to be put in far later in the story. The OC being introduced here will be introduced in an unusual way, but he will play an important role in the upcoming chapters.**

 **Anyways, enjoy!**

 _Light. Darkness. Light is pure. Darkness is corrupt. This ideology, if it is even fit to be called that, has been the cause of countless of unnecessary deaths. Each time someone works up the courage to wield the powers of the void, they are killed by those who fear the power. They claim the darkness is corruption, that it is inferior to the purity of the Light. As if. There is black and white in this world... but there is no line between them. Perhaps there was, once. Now, there are only shades of grey in place of a line. I tread this invisible line between darkness and light, wielding dark fires to preserve beings of light. I have been named a heretic, a fool, and a villain by those I have saved. Those who would speak for me lie dead, at the hands of their religious leaders no less._

 _In the end, though, power is power. I use mine to protect, unwanted though my protection may be. Others, most of them wielders of light, use their power for greed, to gain riches, wealth, and power, under the guise of 'protectors of the people'. It is for this reason I hate the light, for this reason I do not step in when conflicts arise. Not anymore. Not until I have to... and that day has not come. Not yet._

(Obsidian's POV)

I snarl as I cut down another of the humanoid plants with pitchforks. I have been wandering this forest for a few hours now, I can tell thanks to the setting sun, and I've probably gotten my kill count into the hundreds. Thank goodness I haven't tired yet, otherwise I would be a black paste on the forest floor. Either that, or riddled with holes, bruises, and missing limbs. Probably the latter, since that's my luck.

I step foot on a small bridge in the middle of the forest, glad for a reprieve. My relief is short lived, though, as a massive, and I do mean _massive_ , black dragon lands in front of me. The beast turns its head towards me, a single, orange eye staring into my soul. I find myself captivated by the orange eye, unable to look away from its' unnatural beauty.

The dragon snarls slightly, before taking off again, flying into the distance. My trance lifts, and I shake my head to clear it of the sudden nausea I feel. That eye... it reminds me of the One Ring from Lord of the Rings. Beautiful, but in a dangerous way. I could feel the strange power emanating from the eye. I can still feel it, an aura of pure disaster surrounding the bridge.

I sigh, before getting back to walking. I wish there was some way to pass the time that didn't involve killing mindlessly...

(Time skip)

(Artorias' POV)

By my lord Gwyn, how deep is this forest? Me, Gough, Cirian, and our entourage of clerics have walked through this forest for hours now, and the town of Oolacile is no closer.

A stone knight suddenly bursts forth from behind a rather large tree, and foolishly decides to attack me. I block the giant hammer with my greatshield, and a great-arrow is quickly embedded in the head of the knight. The beast falls backwards, before disintegrating into dust like all creatures of the Dark.

"Good shot, lord Gough!"

I silently scoff. Humans. Always with the praise, as if we'd kill them if they did not offer their compliments. Gwyn would not allo-

"AGH!"

A swarm of... deformed humans, I think? ...leap down from the forest canopy, some of them armed with staffs. Most of our human entourage scream in fear, being cut down quickly by the beings. A few, however, manage to keep calm. The human to my left, a cleric vigilante, already has a Lightning spear at the ready, rather impressive, for a human, although I doubt he'll last very long.

An exceptionally stupid attacker decides to leap at me, claws outstretched. I cut the creature down with my greatsword, but another is flying towards me before I even pull my blade out of the fresh corpse. Thankfully, a lightning spear knocks the creature off its course. I'll have to thank whoever threw that later.

This sort of thing repeats for a solid minute. Slowly, I become separated from my fellow Knights of Gwyn, slowly being pushed in different directions by the creatures. The vigilante from the start of the battle is still with me, somehow still alive.

Suddenly...

"DRAGON!"

An ice spike descends from the skies, and impales the nearest attacking creature on the head. A few more land nearby, each hitting another creature. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, I launch myself at the swarm of creatures with renewed vigour. Slowly, with the sudden help from the skies, me, my fellow knights, and our entourage, manage to overpower the swarm of creatures. They eventually flee in panic towards the town of Oolacile, some laughing maniacally in terror.

I sit down, tired, but ready to fight again if need be. I glance at the corpses, and count the friendly ones. Sixteen, all clerics. Almost all of our escort.

A small, blue dragon -dragoness, actually, if the shape is anything to go by- flies through the trees and lands nearby. She starts washing herself in a feline manner, the dirt slowly departing from her scales. One of the surviving clerics readies a lightning spear, and throws it at the dragoness. She jumps in surprise, the lightning spear missing by mere inches. I get up, greatsword at the ready, and I'm about to charge our intruder when...

A dark, ebony glaive lands in front of the dragoness, a torn Darksign (Which humans thankfully are not yet aware of) banner faintly visible. I look up, along with everyone else, and I notice a small, black dragon standing on a branch. He, I'm assuming it's a he, cocks his head to the right, a click being heard, before leaping down into the forest. The dragon lands next to his glaive, and he picks it up. The eyes of this beast just scream of Calamity, like that of Kalameet, but since there are two eyes, I am not afraid of this creature.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the black dragon opens his maw. I bring up my shield to block the expected flames, but flames are not what I get. Instead, I get words.

"Artorias. The Abysswalker."

(Obsidian's POV)

"Artorias." Respect fills my voice. Yes, he serves Gwyn. Yes, he failed to actually fight the Abyss. But as a being of Light, he would be more vulnerable to the Abyss than humans/undead. "The Abysswalker."

The Wolf Knight quickly regains his bearings, and he readies his greatshield and greatsword. Clerics, war clerics from the look of it, are behind him. One of them has a lightning spear at the ready, a look of pure hatred on his face. A giant, who I assume to be Hawkeye Gough, is further behind the miniature army, greatbow pointing directly at me.

Artorias' helmet shifts slightly, before the Abysswalker starts speaking.

"And how would a _dragon_ know of us?"

I smile.

"I have my ways, Sir Artorias, just as you have yours." I twirl Nifred in the air, before bringing it to my side. "Now, I'm going to cut to the chase here. You're here for Manus, father of the Abyss. And before you ask, I am not his ally." I start pacing, keeping my eyes trained on the wolf knight, and keeping my back to who I assume is Winter. "Now, you are going to go into Oolacile, Gough is going to go blind while in there, Cirian is going to become separated from the group, the clerics are all going to die, and you, Artorias..." I point a claw at Artorias. "You alone will make it to Manus, only to find him too powerful for you to handle alone. You will crawl out of the Abyss, your left arm broken and useless, you will use your greatshield to protect Sif, and the Abyss will then, only then, consume your mind. Which reminds me, where is Sif?"

The clerics start muttering in anger that I would dare try to predict the future, but Artorias... he seems rather complacent.

"So, you're telling me that this is a fool's errand?"

I shake my head.

"Of course not. The spread of the Abyss must be halted, and it will be halted. Except, it will be halted by an undead, not you." Artorias and Gough both tense. The clerics notice, and start muttering in confusion instead of disbelief. "What, you mean that lot don't know?" Artorias grips his greatsword tightly, and Gough notches a great-arrow to his bowstring. "Alright, you lot, I'll give you the whole lecture. An undead is a human branded by the Darksign, something created by Gwyn to shackle the darkness of the Abyss and, in turn, humanity. An undead is revived whenever they die, and is immune to the corruption of the abyss. However, whenever an undead dies, they lose part of their soul, slowly losing their memories and power, eventually going hollow."

The clerics stare in shock at me. They probably don't want to believe what they've been told, but they know it is true. I can see it in their eyes.

Artorias and Gough, though, are angry. A great-arrow is launched at me, and I am forced to dodge. Unfortunately, the arrow grazes my tail, the friction burning the scales off the flesh. I snarl, and I bring up Nifred just in time to block an overhead swing from Artorias. The force behind the swing pushes me back slightly. I grunt in pain, the weight of the swing putting an incredible strain on my muscles, and I parry the greatsword. Artorias slams his shield forward in an attempt to daze me, but I simply leap backwards. I find myself next to Winter, who is staring at me, eyes wide in fear.

"Winter, go to the sanctuary, the one with the talking mushroom. I'll meet you there."

Winter, seemingly lost for words, takes off. I turn my attention back to Artorias just in time to avoid a horizontal slash. I attempt to counter with a stab from Nifred, but Artorias somehow parries my blow with his massive shield. Before I know what is happening, a giant sword is thrust through my intestines. I cough up blood, surprised at the speed of the Wolf Knight, and at the sharpness of the blade. The knight pulls his sword out of my stomach. Blood flows freely from the fresh wound, coating my ebony chestplate in black liquid. I fall to the ground, barely managing to get onto all fours before my fresh wound impacts the floor. I look upwards. Artorias gives a small 'tsk', before raising his greatsword.

"Any last words, _dragon_?"

I nod.

"Yeah." I grasp Nifred close to my chest. So, this is how I go out... "Aim for the heart, not the neck. I've been beheaded before, and re-attaching my head *COUGH* to my body is extremely painful."

Artorias nods, before stabbing his sword downwards. The blade penetrates the exposed scales between my wing joints. I gasp as a sudden pulse of pain racks my middle body, followed by subsequent, weaker pulses. I close my eyes, vocal chords trying to groan in pain, but the jolts of pain from simply breathing prevent them from functioning.

I feel the greatsword being pulled from my heart, pain wracking my entire being. I hear the people walk off, but I'm too busy dying to care.

I lie in place, my slow, painful breaths being the only thing I hear. Pulses of pain flood my body in time with my extremely weak heartbeat. Warm blood flows over my body, staining my armour a darker black. After what feels like a millennium, I take in a single, painful breath... a single, weak heartbeat pulses in my chest... and... finally...

I die.

 **Well, there you have it. Obsidian is 'dead' quote unquote. For the third time, if you count all his beheading, and that one time he put on an ebony ring that was totally not a rip-off of the One Ring. But, Obsidian being dead is impossible, because the prologue takes place AFTER the story... I'll leave you lot to speculate. It isn't that hard to come up with the correct theory, though, so long as you take every variable into account.**

 **Now, the next few chapters should be interesting, and the next two in particular... well, you are going to enjoy those. In the meantime, I suggest you go do some research on Dark Souls lore. I recommend the Youtube channel 'VaatiVidya' for that. He releases great theories on Dark Souls, shows obscure connections between characters, and even presents multiple theories on who the Furtive Pygmy really is. Who is the Furtive Pygmy, you ask? Go watch the intro of Dark Souls 1, that should tell you slightly less than enough.**

 **Until next time...**


	8. 7: Curse

**Chapter 7: Curse**

 **Well, here I am with another chapter. Again. Yay.**

 **To the Guest RK: I did not respond to your latest 'review' last chapter because the response would likely tear up Fallout 4 to the nth degree. If you want an answer, either create a account, or tell me what your current one is (If you have one). I'll PM the answer to you, even if it will turn Fallout 4 into Swiss cheese.**

 **And to SKdaGamer: Thank you for the latest batch of constructive criticism, and thank you for recommending this series in Broken Perceptions.**

 **With all said and done, (try to) enjoy!**

 _Death is a curious concept, one that has captured the imagination for eons. Scientifically speaking, death is when the heart stops beating. Psychologically speaking, death is when one loses their sense of self. But it is impossible for the living to know what true death is, without joining it in a deadly embrace._

 _Some believe it is possible to transcend death, to become truly immortal. Others believe it is an inevitability, that death will always find a way to claim the living. Me... I see death as a locked door, because that is what it is to me. A locked door I cannot pass. Because, thanks to those bonfires, and the accursed fires within them, I can no longer die._

(Obsidian's POV)

A heartbeat. That is the first thing I feel. A powerful, strong heartbeat. Then a burning pain on my chest, like a branding iron piercing my scales. And finally... a breath.

"GAH!"

I jolt upright, eyes opening fast enough to cause me pain, and air flooding my newly reformed lungs. Light floods the sensitive organs, burning my retinas, but I'm too surprised to care. I'm alive. Actually alive!

My eyes slowly focus, and the blinding light slowly turns into a recognisable object. A bonfire, coiled sword and all. I glance around, panting heavily, shocked that I'm alive. My eyes finally rest on the form of a blue dragoness. Winter.

The dragoness is asleep, thank goodness, but it doesn't look peaceful. Far from it. Winter is thrashing in her sleep, and whimpering. A nightmare.

I get up, only to notice that my armour is significantly lighter than before... and is causing me significantly more pain. Looking down, it has been stained black by my blood, the dark energies inside the liquid infused with the armour. I lift my right paw to my face, still getting over the fact that I am still alive. My paw is almost exactly the same as before, no noticeably difference between before and after my death.

I glance next to the bonfire, and sure enough, Nifred has been changed as well as my armour. The blade of my glaive has darkened, and morphed. There are now serrations on both sides, as well as an ornate, black guard that would not look out of place on a long-sword. The serrations stick out of the blade, instead of being built into the blade like they were in the original design. The shaft of my weapon has also darkened, but unlike the rest of the weapon, it has turned crystalline. The once obsidian shaft is now made up entirely of a black crystal, which seems to absorb the light around it. And the part at the end of the weapon, where the banner is attached... it now smoulders with dark flames, the banner itself ethereal.

I pick up Nifred, and I walk towards Winter. She is still sleeping restlessly. Looking at the ground, I can now see why.

A pool of blood is coming from the neck of Winter, a wound cutting straight into one of her arteries. The blood has clotted, she probably brought a couple of healing crystals with her, but the wound is still dripping slightly.

I kneel next to Winter, and I shake her firmly on her front left leg joint. Winter stirs, but does not wake up. I shake more firmly.

After about five minutes of this, I decide to go all out. I stand up, albeit with slight difficulty, and I let loose a roar.

Winter jumps awake, immediately becoming alert, and getting onto all four paws, rings raised and extended to intimidate any attackers. When Winter realises who woke her up, she visibly relaxes, although she still seems on edge.

"Obsidian?" I nod. "Did you have to wake me up like that?"

I nod again, and... in 3, 2, 1... the blunt end of a tail blade is sent flying towards my face. Out of reflex I catch Winter's tail, stopping the tail blade from hitting my face.

"Could you not, Winter? You were having a nightmare, and being hit in the face by a tail blade isn't exactly thanks."

I release Winter's tail, and she rests it at her side. An awkward silence follows, with neither of us making eye contact. It lasts for about five minutes, before someone interrupts.

"Err... is this a bad time?" Both me and Winter turn towards the newcomer, and, lo and behold, he is one of the clerics who accompanied Artorias and his fellow knights. If his attire is anything to go by, probably one of the newer members of the group. "I just wanted to ask the black dragon if what he said about the Darksign is true. If it really exists."

I nod.

"It is true. Every word, although I left out a couple of important details."

(Time skip)

I walk towards the bonfire carrying a dead deer. Rather difficult to find one that wasn't corrupted by the Abyss, all things considered, but... well, at least I found one in the end. Even if it meant walking dangerously close to where I believe the black dragon from earlier resides.

I place the carcass besides the bonfire, which Winter and the cleric are seated around, before sitting down myself.

"Now... where to begin." I rub my chin in though for a moment, before it hits me. "Ah, yes. So, cleric, you are aware of Gwyn's crusade against the ancient dragons, right?"

The cleric nods.

"Yes. And please, call me Morris."

 **(Please note that a lot of this required digging to come up with, and even more of this is merely an educated guess based off item descriptions.)**

"Alright then, Morris. So, as you are aware, Gwyn lead the crusade against the ancient dragons, killing all but two of them. The first being Seath the Scaless, of whom you've likely heard about. The second being Kalameet, since he is simply too powerful for Gwyn to have brought down. But..." I pause for effect. "Gwyn did not have the numbers to properly wage war against the ancient dragons. So, he approached Humans for help. Humans who, at the time, lived in the Abyss. Literally." Morris raises his head in surprise, but doesn't interrupt me. "Gwyn gave the Humans a 'power over fire', by imbuing their weapons with the energy of the First Flame, and in exchange, they offered themselves as soldiers in his army. But Gwyn had deceived them. This power he gave them was in fact the Darksign, something of his own design, which trapped the true power of humanity, and forced some of them to become Slave Knights, undead who's only job was to throw themselves at dragons until they went hollow."

I pause, sighing, before I continue speaking.

"At the end of the war, not one of the humans was congratulated. Instead, the most powerful and influential humans, the Pygmies, were given two gifts. The first was city at the worlds end, far away from the influence of Gwyn and his fires. The second was the youngest child of Gwyn, Filianore. Gwyn promised to retrieve his daughter when the time was right, though he did not intent to. And so, the Pygmies left for their hidden city, leaving the humans substantially weaker, and leaving the power of humanity trapped in the ring of fire that is the Darksign. And that is where undead come into play."

I shift a bit in my seat, bracing for the reaction of Morris that is certain to come after I finish speaking.

"When the first flame starts fading, as it does now, the Darksign goes out of control. Humans wake up without their memories, and with a ring of fire branding their bodies. These humans, without their memories, slowly go hollow, dying over and over again during the process. Eventually, though, one of them will learn that by sacrificing Humanity sprites to the First Flame, they can reverse the hollowing. This information will spread, until eventually, all undead are offering their souls to bonfires, reversing their hollowing, and keeping the flame in its' state. Fading, but unable to truly run out of fuel."

I sit back, finished. Morris starts speaking, but I don't notice, because I suddenly remembered something. I died. I remember dying. And the Darksign, the brand of the undead, resurrects its' bearer whenever they die next to a bonfire... and I woke up next to a bonfire.

I quickly remove my chestplate, and underneath... I am shocked.

Because underneath my chestplate, now visible to the naked eye thanks to my death... is a ring of fire, surrounding a hole of pure darkness just above my heart.

The Darksign.

 **PLOT TWIST! Or not, if you read the prologue properly. Which I suspect most of you didn't, since it is a cringy piece of **** that honestly makes me want to get a big old bowl of my own words and choke them all down for breakfast. With milk, might I add.**

 **So... that is now a thing, so I can address other issues. Like, for example, the reason it took so long to upload this chapter. Well, it took me a few days at best to get the first couple of hundred words right, although once those were out of the way, the remaining thousand words or so just flew out of the keyboard.**

 **Until next time... assuming, of course, that I don't hit writers block again and put the lot of you off this series by taking a year to get the next chapter out.**


	9. 8: Scorched Soul

**Chapter 8: Scorched Soul**

 **Well... it took long enough, but I'm FINALLY getting back to writing after a week of trying to platinum Final Fantasy XV. Still haven't gotten it, so I'm going to take a break from gaming, and get back to writing.**

 **RK, I have sent you the PM you requested. Try not to hate me for what, in my opinion, looks like a complete dismantling of the entire Fallout series.**

 **And to the most recent guest to review 'Obsidian', the first fiction in the series, you are allowed to dislike everything. Your opinion has been taken into account, although the fact that you only pointed out one of many flaws drains any hope of finding another good critic.**

 **Anyways, with everything important out of the way, enjoy!**

 _Souls. One of the most valuable things in the universe, because they are difficult to create. One could artificially create a soul, but it would take vast amounts of power, a ritual, and an extremely powerful elemental source, in order to create one. One such source of power is the First Flame. The same source that created the Darksign._

 _The Darksign. The brand that scorches the souls of the dead, denying them access to the afterlife. While often shown as a ring of fire surrounding pure darkness, the truth is that it is a cage of fire, keeping dark souls like my own from escaping this mortal coil. There is an escape. But I cannot take it yet. My memory is fractured, but intact. And as long as my memory is intact..._

 _I am trapped in the circle of fire._

(Obsidian's POV)

I can't believe it. Me. Branded by the Darksign. The one thing _worse_ than death. The fiery brand, darkness inside the circle, is burning just above my heart. If left unchecked... it could... erase my memory.

Winter is speaking, shock clearly on her face, but I can't hear her. I can't hear anything. I'm still coming to terms with my new curse. Undeath. LITERAL undeath. An inability to die. I know, I might have cheated death on multiple occasions, but this is different. This makes it impossible for me to die. LITERALLY. IMPOSSIBLE. Great. I'm now stuck in this mortal coil for the rest of eternity. Fantastic. Ten out of ten five star review IGN type of fantastic. Ugh... well, goodbye memory. It was nice knowing you.

A sudden pain registers in my skull, stopping my rather stupid mental monologue before it gets any more stupid. I manage to get my brain to respond to my eyes again, and I manage to notice Winter readying the blunt side of her tail blade for another swing at my head.

So, naturally, when the swing comes, I grab Winter's tail with my left paw mere millimetres from hitting my head.

"Thank you, Winter, for snapping me out of that particular mental monologue. *Sigh* Now, could you repeat what you just said?"

The blue dragoness nods, before speaking.

"Yes. I said, 'What in the name of the Ancestors is _that_?'."

I look at Morris. He has a dumbstruck look on his face, eyes wide and all. Well... wouldn't you be if an unknown brand of fire appeared on a sentient being you just met?

"Well, you two... this... _thing_ on my chest is the Darksign I mentioned." I answer to both Winter and Morris. "I thought I might be branded, but... I had hoped..." Despite my best efforts, a little emotion manages to flash across my face. I take a moment to breathe, regaining my composure. "Well, I suppose it was going to happen. No, it is not infectious, at least not until the First Flame starts to fade. And no, I have no intention of trying to find a cure, because I already know that the only cure is to put out the First Flame."

Morris shudders, fear showing in his eyes.

"Do you... intend, to put out the First Flame?"

Morris, I am not that callous.

"No, I don't. The First Flame would simply appear again in the future, and would bring the Darksign back with it. No, I'm stuck like this, like it or not."

I get up, grabbing my morphed glaive as I do so. It is going to need a new name. _Fear_ doesn't quite cut it anymore, seeing as the new crystalline shaft radiates pure darkness. Not to mention the new serrations on the blade. Myrglaw, perhaps? (Roughly translates to 'Dark Radiance') Yup, that'll do it. Myrglaw it is.

"Winter, there is something I need to do." Remember the black dragon with the single, orange eye? That one? "There is a rather large, and powerful, dragon nearby. I intend to kill it."

"Kalameet." I turn towards Morris, who decided to add himself into this 'discussion'. "His name is Kalameet, and I strongly suggest you rethink your course of action. Thousands of dragonslayers have died to him, to the point where Anor Londo itself is afraid of his power."

I smile.

"Have you forgotten the part where I have developed a sudden immunity to death?"

(Time skip)

Flying. Normally, I would enjoy it, but carrying around a 10 stone cleric, plus all my armour, on my back kind of ruins it. I mean, he can throw lightning spears, and I'm glad he volunteered to help out, but that doesn't make it any easier to fly!

"Obsidian, could you please keep steady?!"

I turn my head so I can look at the cleric I am carrying.

"I'm far too small to carry a rider, so no, I can't."

And that is completely ignoring the fact that I am also carrying my renamed glaive. Seriously, if it weren't for my elementally enhanced strength, I wouldn't even be able to lift myself off the ground with this weight on my back... Well, better me, the now immortal undead, breaks their back than Winter, who would be permanently maimed if she broke her back.

"Obsidian, Morris, ahead of us!"

I focus my eyes ahead, instead of on my rider. Kalameet, unless there is another one-eyed dragon nearby, is flying towards us at high speeds.

"Morris, lightning spear please!"

Morris takes out a talisman, mutters a small prayer, and before I know it, a spear of pure lightning is flying towards Kalameet. The black dragon swerves out of the way at the last second, only being clipped by the spear on the tail. But it is enough to surprise the beast.

Kalameet roars, before staring directly at me. His eye starts glowing a red-orange, and a painfully high-pitched screech is emitted from the eye. I snarl, before launching a pain-fuelled cursed fireball at Kalameet. I smile, thinking that I got him... only for an orange aura to surround the fireball, and cause it to dissipate.

"What-?!"

I don't have time to finish my thought, because a stream of black fires is launched at me, Morrris, and Winter. I pull upwards slightly, using my own body to shield the cleric on my back. Dark energy courses through my veins, searing my internal flesh. Morris manages to heroically stay on my back, despite the crippling aura of these dark, cold fires.

The stream of fire fades, and both me and Winter start falling. Luckily, Winter was only at the edge of the stream of flames, so she was able to pull out of her fall. I wasn't so lucky.

I manage to extend my wings, slowing my descent just enough to allow both me and Morris to survive the landing. A heavy thud is heard upon our impact with the ground, Myrglaw barely managing to stay in my grasp. I painfully manage to get on my four knees, barely conscious. Just as I am nearing unconsciousness, a golden glow surrounds me, my internal pain dimming. My vision clears, and I spot Morris on his knees, talisman in his hand, chanting.

"Thanks Morris."

He nods.

"Thank me later, right now we have a dragon to deal with."

Winter lands next to me. I turn towards her.

"Obsidian, are you sure we can win this?"

I nod.

"We can. And if I am wrong, then at least we'll go out in style."

A massive, black shadow passes over our heads, before landing in front of the three of us. Dust is launched into the air, nearly blinding the group, and a glowing, orange eye appears amidst the dust.

Kalameet raises his head to the skies, and lets out an ear splitting roar. Pain, and despair, launches through me. I shake off the feeling, before getting into my stance.

This is going to be one hell of a fight.

 **Cliffhanger, because I couldn't resist. Oh, and also because I'm dedicating all of the next chapter to the fight with Kalameet. I mean, he IS the 'last of the ancient dragons', according to item descriptions, so it is only fitting. And before you ask, no, I am not going to have Obsidian absolutely obliterate him in the most anticlimactic way possible. Although... I am planning on having a Kalameet-related plot twist in the forseeable future.**

 **Feel free to leave a review. I could really use some feedback right now, for obvious reasons.**

 **Until next time...**


	10. 9: Calamity

**Chapter 9: Calamity**

 **I've probably butchered this chapter to the point where it is going to kill my FPS, but oh well, if you wanted realism you would be reading Broken Perceptions by SKdaGamer, not the graveyard of words known as 'Accursed Fires'.**

 **Oh, and to SKdaGamer, I'm afraid your latest review only showed up in my Email box, not in the review box, and due to the size of it, I was not able to fully read it. However, most of the review went through, and I am making a special effort to take your advice with this chapter. If possible, could you PM me the whole review you left? I'd like to read the whole thing, if you wouldn't mind.**

 **With everything out of the way, on with the show, and enjoy.**

 _Good and evil. As different as black and white, in the eyes of the public. Good people help others. Bad people kill others. It seems so simple, doesn't it? But the harsh reality is that it is never that simple._

 _A good man may be forced to kill others in order to protect his daughter, who is being held hostage by criminals. But the public may not see it that way. They will think that this man kills out of spite, because they don't know the whole story._

 _So, you see, it is never a good idea to pass judgement until you have the whole story. No-one even knows half my story, and yet I do not need people to tell me whether I am a good or a bad person. Because, out of everything I have done, one deed still haunts me to this day._

 _The deed sitting on my claw._

(Obsidian's POV)

Kalameet. The black dragon of calamity. So powerful that not even Anor Londo dared provoke his ire. And here I am, with Winter and Morris beside me, engaged in a staring contest with the unblinking dragon. For a few, precious seconds, everything is still.

And then the world explodes. Kalameet launches himself forward, charging at the three of us. Both Winter and Morris get clear, but I stand still, almost taunting the charging creature. I leap to the left moments before impact, attempting to slice Kalameet's front leg with Myrglaw, my renamed glaive. Unfortunately, my attack draws no blood, and doesn't even stagger the dragon. He whips around mid-charge, using his tail to whip me. In response, I duck, while going for an overhead swing with Myrglaw. The blade connects with the tail of the black dragon, but fails to do anything other than superficial damage.

I don't have time to react. Kalameet brings his head around, before standing on his hind legs. Before I know what is happening, I am levitating in the air. I attempt to thrash my limbs, but an invisible force is preventing me from moving.

And then, the pain comes. A powerful, overwhelming, burning sensation spreads through my entire being, starting at my limbs and quickly working towards my main body. Through the pain, I manage to hear an extremely high-pitched screech coming from directly in front of me... and, for the first time in months, a terrible fear grips my mind.

After what felt like years, but could have been moments, the invisible force holding me in the air disappears, along with the pain. Gravity suddenly kicks in, and I hit the ground wings first. A sickening crunch is heard, in time with a blast of pain, and I know for a fact that I have just broken at least one of my wings, probably both.

I manage to roll onto all fours, despite the pain, and get up. My joints feel dangerously loose, but I ignore the feeling. Gripping Myrglaw tightly, I use the pain throughout my body to set the blade of the weapon alight. Orange and black flames burst from the weapon, and blood flows to my eyes. I snarl, before running directly towards Kalameet.

The black dragon spots me coming, but thankfully a couple of ice spikes hit the everlasting dragon on the neck, impaling Kalameet on his neck, and staggering him before he can launch a stream of fire at me. The black dragon roars in surprise, unfortunately confirming that his throat wasn't pierced, but that gives me the opening I need. Still at a distance, I throw Myrglaw at Kalameet, aiming for his eye. Annoyingly, my aim was off, because the glaive impacts the black dragon on the left wing joint instead of the eye.

Kalameet doesn't even flinch, once again charging me. Learning from my mistake of standing still, I leap above the charging behemoth at the last second, enhancing my jump by flapping my broken wings. Pain launches through my body, almost blinding me, but I ignore it. I grip the shaft of Myrglaw while in midair, and I rip it out of Kalameet's wing joint with a sickening twist.

Kalameet roars in agony, and he whips around. The tail of the everlasting dragon hits me mid-fall, although I manage to twist myself partially out of the way. Despite this, I am sent flying several metres, before I hit the ground hard, landing on my back. A jarring pain flows through my spine, followed by nausea. I am vaguely aware of Kalameet moving towards me, likely to finish me off. I open my eyes, hoping that I'm mistaken. I'm not. Kalameet stands in front of me, his singular eye flaring bright orange. I close my eyes, bracing for the pain...

But it never comes.

Opening my eyes in confusion, it would seem like Winter and Morris decided I was having too much of the fun. Winter is flying circles around the black dragon, launching ice spikes at him. Morris, on the other hand, is lobbing lightning spears at the dragon, each spear seeming to burn the scales off Kalameet's flesh. I'll have to thank those two later.

I get onto all fours, despite the pain, and I take a moment to look over myself. My wings have been torn completely to shreds, my armour is digging into my flesh as usual, and my head is still spinning. No matter.

I grab Myrglaw tightly, before properly getting up. Nausea assaults my mind, but I ignore it, focusing entirely on the everlasting dragon in front of me. I take a single step forward, before my legs give way. I attempt to signal Morris with a raised paw. Fortunately, the cleric notices, and rushes towards me. Morris gets on his knees, before chanting a soft prayer. A golden glow envelops my body, and my limbs snap painfully back into place. I growl in pain when my wings are fixed, the bones painfully being forced to meld together.

After a few seconds, Morris gets up, and rushes back into the fight. I follow suit, the majority of my limbs now functioning at 100%, and I run back into the fight.

Kalameet's single eye glows angrily, before an orange glow, accompanied by a high-pitched screech, is emitted from the gem-like eye. Winter is grabbed from the air by the same orange glow, which moves her in front of Kalameet's glowing eye. The screech gets louder, forcing Morris to cover his ears, although I manage to ignore the noise. All of Winter's limbs are stretched painfully, the everlasting dragon's glare focused entirely on the young dragoness he is torturing.

A sudden realisation hits me. This is the same invisible force that gripped me earlier in the fight. And Winter is likely experiencing the same agony.

Rage, the likes of which has only gripped me once before, fills my mind. Myrglaw bursts back into flames, and I charge at the black, everlasting dragon. Kalameet notices, and drops Winter on the floor. A sickening crack is heard upon Winter's impact on the ground, and if it weren't for my anger, I would flinch.

When I get close enough to kalameet, I leap into the air, before using gravity in an attempt to impale Kalameet through his spine. The dragon leaps out of the way, and I hit the ground hard enough to create a small crater. Ignoring the pain, and ignoring the blood flowing through my eyes, I take to the skies. Kalameet, seemingly bored by the fight, simply launches a black fireball at me. Thankfully, the fireball is too slow, and I am able to dodge it with ease. In response, I once again dive bomb Kalameet. Only this time, I'm using my wings to control my dive.

Kalameet, instead of dodging like I expected breathes a stream of black fire out of his maw. Moving too fast to dodge, I move the tip of Myrglaw in front of me, meeting the black fires of kalameet with my own cursed flames. Black and Cursed flames mix, and for a split second, I'm afraid I might have done something wrong. That fear passes when the flames clear, and the head of Kalameet is a few metres in front of me.

I impact the Black dragon on the head, burying Myrglaw deep into the top half of his skull. Kalameet thrashes in pain, before taking to the skies in an attempt to be rid of me. I grip my glaive tightly, somehow managing to hold onto Kalameet through all of this.

After a few seconds, Kalameet stills, giving me the opportunity I need. I plant my hind legs firmly on the skull of the everlasting dragon, before ripping out Myrglaw with a sickening twist. One of the horns on the head of the great dragon comes free, and Kalameet, it, and I fall to the ground.

I land on my hind legs, implanting the bladed end of Myrglaw into the ground as I land. Kalameet lands shortly afterwards, fortunately not on his feet, and his severed horn lands in between the two of us.

Kalameet manages to get to his feet, except he has two problems. One of his legs seems bent slightly, and blood is flowing from where I severed his horn. The everlasting dragon snarls weakly, and that is as good a signal as any.

I throw Myrglaw at the black dragon, who, in his weakened state, cannot dodge. The weapon embeds itself deeply in the left shoulder of the dragon, causing a slight crack to appear in Kalameet's scales. I charge at the dragon, using my pain and anger to set my claws alight. When I reach him, I go berserk.

I slash Kalameet left, right, and centre, at speeds even I can't track. Blood flies everywhere, some of it getting in my eyes. I don't care. All I care about, is killing the creature who so nonchalantly tortures others with his telekinesis.

Eventually, I calm myself, and in front of me... Kalameet is barely alive. Blood flows from multiple wounds, especially from the latest one caused by Myrglaw, which is still stuck in the shoulder of the beast. I walk towards the left shoulder of the downed dragon, and I wrap my right paw over the shaft of the weapon. I tense my muscles, ready to pull the weapon out... but I hesitate. I can hear the shuddering breaths of the downed creature, and feel them through my weapon. A wave of guilt rushes through me, as I realise that, in my rage, I condemned this creature to a painful, slow death.

Without twisting, I remove Myrglaw from the shoulder of Kalameet. The dragon exhales sharply when I remove the glaive, and blood pours out of the now open wound. I slowly walk towards the head of the felled beast, and a single orange eye meets both of mine. In that single eye, I spot a single emotion. Fear. But beyond that... a faint sadness. I solemnly raise Myrglaw above the head of Kalameet, before bringing the blade down as quickly as possible.

Kalameet died instantly. No pain was felt from that final blow. I sit down next to the head of the dragon, watching as the body slowly evaporates like most things in Dark Souls do when they die. A single tear of guilt escapes my left eye, hinting at the hidden remorse I am currently feeling.

After about thirty seconds, the body of Kalameet has fully evaporated... except for one part. The orange eye Kalameet used against us in the battle is intact, glowing slightly, like a gemstone refracting light. I pick up the eye, surprised that it feels more like a finely cut stone than flesh, and the eye glows brighter. Before I know what is happening, the gem-like eye changes shape, turning into an intricately designed black ring, with an orange, eye-like gemstone. And I recognise the ring.

Pocketing the ring, I stand up, before turning to Winter and Morris. Morris is sitting next to Winter, who is bleeding from multiple wounds, and seems to have dislocated multiple limbs. Morris chants softly, before a familiar golden glow encompasses the three of us, healing any wounds we may or may not have sustained. Winter's limbs snap back into place, and her wounds heal... but scars are left behind.

I turn away from my two companions, and I walk next to a waterfall, before collapsing in exhaustion. I take out my newly acquired ring, and, knowing that it will only hinder me, I place it on a claw on my left paw. A feeling of weakness floods my body, and I almost black out from the sudden feeling. But I manage to remain conscious.

And, in that moment, a sudden feeling of kinship with the dead black dragon hits me.

 **Well... THAT only took a few days to write and edit. Yay.**

 **So... for those of you looking for clarification, the ring Obsidian got from Kalameet IS the Calamity Ring. Although, you need to be aware, I have a bit of a theory involving the Calamity Ring, and I will be using it in this fanfiction. Don't like it? Go write your own fanfiction.**

 **I am still accepting requests, since there are likely at least another 50K words to go, but I am not accepting OCs any more.**

 **Until next time...**


	11. 10: Tensions

**Chapter 10: Tensions**

 **Welcome back, all. I hope the last chapter wasn't too boring, but knowing my luck, it probably was.**

 **For those of you who are curious about the theory I mentioned at the end of the last chapter, go read the Dark Souls 1 description of the Calamity Ring. If you have a talent for thinking outside the box, then you should come up with the same theory I did.**

 **And to SkdaGamer, I do believe you'll enjoy this particular chapter, and the repercussions a certain part of it will have on the rest of this story. Even if it's a bit late to the party, so to speak.**

 **With all said and done, enjoy!**

 _Souls. The primary source of power in the universe. Most would be disgusted by creatures such as me, who devour souls to increase their own strength. I hate myself, at times. But it is what I am, now. A being who feeds off souls. And to refuse that, would be to refuse my very existence._

 _Despite this, I try not to consume souls unless it is absolutely necessary. My own, inherent power more than makes up for my refusal to consume souls. And yet... it is so sorely tempting. To utterly destroy everything my enemies stand for, by consuming their very existence. No, to erase their existence, to make it so they can never atone for their sins._

 _But I do not. For that is what makes a monster._

(Obsidian's POV)

The flight back to the sanctuary was largely uneventful. Painful, thanks to the fact that the resident cleric can't fly and needs someone to carry him, but uneventful. Unless you count the couple of wind gusts which almost knocked Morris off my back, in which case it was very eventful.

I land next to the sanctuary Bonfire as soon as I spot it, before collapsing from exhaustion. Morris gets off my back, before kneeling, talisman at the ready.

"Miracles cure wounds, not exhaustion." I hold up my paw to stop him from wasting a miracle. "And I'm far too small to carry a rider."

Morris nods, and sits down next to the bonfire, letting its' heat heal any lingering wounds of his. Winter lands next to me, clearly in a much better condition than I am. I mean, she isn't stupidly wearing a certain ring, unlike yours truly.

"You alright, Obsidian?"

Winter, of course I'm alright. Bar the ring on my claw, of course. You know, the thing that supposedly makes me weaker, although it is possible that it does more than that.

"I'm fine, Winter. Tired, but fine."

The blue dragoness widens her left eye in a questioning way.

"Really? You're fine? After you went berserk in the fight with that black dragon, got heavily wounded, and carried Morris there and back again, you're _fine_?"

"Yes." Winter does not seem convinced. "I am, in fact, fine. Should I not be?"

"No, you should not be fine." Alright, you've got my attention. "You fought that black dragon to a standstill, practically without our help, went berserk at the end of the fight, carried Morris to and from the fight itself, and you have a weird... _thing_ on your chest scales that seems to radiate of... whatever the opposite of normal is." Winter moves her head close to mine, almost seeming stern. "You're not _fine_ , no matter what you tell yourself."

I sigh in frustration. I'm not fine, I'm just trying to appear fine.

"Alright, I'm not fine." I throw my front paws up in the air in a motion of mock surrender. "You saw right through me. So what, I fought Kalameet to a standstill, completely lost the plot at the end of the fight, had to carry a cleric to and from the fight, and am branded by the Darksign. What about all that screams 'not fine' to you?" I can feel unnatural anger in my voice, and I find myself agreeing with what I'm saying. So, what about everything I've done is so wrong? I'm perfectly fine. "So, you have a point, I'm pushing myself beyond my limits. THAT IS WHAT BEING **BRANDED** IS ALL ABOUT!" My voice distorted when I said 'branded', anger flaring at Gwyn for cursing this world with the Darksign. "Pushing yourself to death, again, and again, AND AGAIN, for the simple sake of consuming souls to become powerful enough to act as fuel for the so-called First Flame."

I walk over to the stone wall surrounding the bonfire, and I punch it in anger. I don't even feel any pain when my clenched paw punctures straight through the solid stone wall. Pulling my paw free from the wall, I half turn back towards Winter, focusing one blood-filled eye on the blue dragoness.

"You have **no right** to tell me that I'm not fine. You don't understand what it is to be Undead." I turn back to the stone wall, and I punch it again, harder this time. Once again, my paw goes through the wall, without causing me any pain. "To lose everything. Your home. Your family. Even your own blessed name." A tear escapes my eye as I punch the wall again. "To die. Over, and over, and over again, forever stuck within this mortal coil, simply so Gwyn's Age of Fire can last that little bit longer." I throw another, far weaker punch at the wall. A simple, cracked crater appears in the wall where I punched it, and pain finally flows through my clenched paw. "You would not understand..." Every trace of anger leaves my voice with that last line, black blood flowing out of my eyes as my rage leaves my system. "And I hope you never have to."

I softly dig my ringed claw into the stone wall in front of me, refusing to let a single tear escape my eye as the gravity of my situation finally dawns on me. My mind's eye turns towards my many memories of Dark Souls lore, specifically to the bits concerning Undead. They all die, repeatedly, until eventually they lose purpose, and go hollow. And even then, they continue to die and die. Until, after likely hundreds of years, their mind is so far gone that there is nothing to resurrect. And yet... there is one thing that keeps Undead from hollowing. Humanity sprites, shards (Or if my theories are to be believed, lesser copies) of the Dark Soul. With the fragments of the original Dark Soul being held in two separate locations, if memory serves. The Ringed City... and within the body of Manus, Father of the Abyss, primeval man, and possibly the Furtive Pygmy who found the Dark Soul.

My train of thought is broken rather quickly by the sounds of a fight behind me. A quick one, by the sounds of it, and one without any battle cries or pleas for help.

Slowly, I turn around. And when I am once again facing the bonfire, I narrow my eyes.

Because, in front of me, there are two beings holding Morris and Winter hostage.

Specifically, two knights of Gwyn. Artorias, who is holding Winter, and Ciaran, who is holding Morris.

For what feels like ages, not a single soul moves. Not Artorias, Ciaran, their hostages, or even me. The lot of us seem frozen in a deathly silence, as if awaiting something. Which, I suppose, we are. Waiting for someone to speak.

Artorias is the one who first breaks the silence.

"I killed you."

I nod, acknowledging that fact.

"Yes, and thanks to that, I'm now branded by the Darksign. Ironic, really, isn't it?"

Morris raises an eyebrow in a questioning way, but doesn't dare speak. After all, he is being held down by Ciaran, a famed assassin in the world of Dark Souls.

"Yes, ironic." Artorias makes no attempt to hide the disgust in his voice. Something to make note of in the future. "After turning those clerics against the great Lord Gwyn, you are branded by the very thing you used to turn them. Fitting." Artorias moves his greatsword to Winter's neck, threatening to slit her throat. "And it is also fitting that I take away your companions."

I smirk, and shake my head.

"That is up to you. However, since you lack companions now, it would be more profitable for the five of us to _work together_." I raise a paw, stopping anyone from interrupting. "I didn't take your entourage, I simply gave the people making it up reason to leave. Goes to show how loyal they were, doesn't it?"

Ciaran loosens her grip upon hearing this, but Artorias only moves his blade closer to the neck of Winter.

"Give me one reason to believe you."

My smirk turns into a smile.

"I'll do you one better. You are one of the Four Knights of Gwyn, are you not?" Artorias nods in response. "Then you know from experience what lengths your lord will go to in order to keep his Age of Fire going, and why he does it. The Abyss is spreading, and we both know it must be stopped. However, I may have... thrown a couple of things off, by being here. So, plan B. The lot of us go into the Abyss, kill Manus, stop the spread of his corruption, and remove the need for an Undead to do your job for you."

Ciaran shifts her white, hole-less mask, to make it look like she is staring me in the eye.

"And why should we believe you, dragon?"

I look directly at the assassin, before giving my answer.

"Two reasons. One, because Manus is the idiot who dragged me here. And two, because me, Morris, and Winter have killed Kalameet." To my pleasure, I hear a pair of gasps of surprise. "Don't believe me?" I bring up my left paw, showing the ring I took from Kalameet when he died. "Is this enough proof?"

Ciaran nods.

"Yes, I believe that is proof enough." Ciaran releases Morris, who immediately makes his way towards me, brushing himself clean of dirt. "Artorias?"

With a grunt, likely of complaint, Artorias releases Winter, who also rushes towards me, while giving Artorias the evil eye.

"Splendid!" I make my way towards the bonfire, and I pick up Myrglaw, which I must have dropped when I landed. "Now, who's leading the way?"

 **And that roughly finishes this chapter. I know, a butchers shop, as usual, if you don't like it then write your own fiction. It'll probably turn out better than this complete mess of words, even if you decide to take the lazy way out.**

 **I know, a bit odd for two of the Knights of Gwyn to 'trust' a dragon of all things, but they trusted Seath, and that let them start the Age of Fire in the first place. Don't judge me too harshly, I've thought about this and done my research.**

 **Until next time...**


	12. 11: Mistrust

**Chapter 11: Mistrust**

 **Well... there have been some problems with reviews lately. As in, recent reviews aren't turning up until a few days after they're posted. I would complain, but the PM feature exists, and SKdaGamer has been kind enough to PM me his most recent review, allowing me to view it before I've gotten this chapter out.**

 **This is one of my worse chapters, and I suspect the next few chapters will be worse still.**

 **Enough of the A/N, enjoy!**

 _The Abyss is a curious thing. Almost like an infectious disease, it spreads, seeking new hosts to its' power. Whether those hosts accept or defy the Abyss matters not. In the end, the result is the same. The fracturing of the mind, followed by mutation. Both are caused by the Humanity of the hosts from going out of control. Creatures of light, who lack Humanity, are more resistant to the symptoms of Abyssal infection, but they lack the same resistance to the darkness humans possess, resulting in faster infection, but less severe symptoms._

 _Another curious thing about the Abyss is its' unique ability to distort both space and time, folding them around each other. While most beings, including myself, cannot handle this particular power, it is possible to use another object to pull the tension away from the wielder. Corrupted humans use catalysts to absorb the tension, enabling the use of Abyssal power in the form of hexes. Hollows use Bonfires, sacrificing dark energy at the flames to restore the pure darkness that is their humanity._

 _However, almost all wielders of the Abyss forget to do one thing._

 _They forget to fear the power they wield. For it has a will of its' own._

(Obsidian's POV)

I sigh angrily as I cut down another of the humanoid plants which are attempting to cut us down. It has been about half an hour, and during that time we've been ambushed nonstop by lone humanoid plants, or lone humanoid rock-giants.

Artorias and Ciaran don't seem to be having much difficulty with the situation. Well... mainly Artorias. Ciaran, for all intents and purposes, is invisible. If I had to hazard a guess, she's cutting down our attackers, and leaving the lone attackers as tests for me, Winter, and Morris. I mean, Artorias insisted on leading the group, and while he is doing a marvellous job of leading the way, the Wolf Knight is too far in the lead to actually help if me, Winter, or Morris were to come under attack. Probably some agreement between the two knights to get rid of us.

Winter and Morris are almost directly behind me, both completely silent. Possibly something to do with my earlier outburst. More likely, they're nervous. Morris, because he 'betrayed' Artorias and Ciaran. And Winter because of how I reacted when she stated that I needed rest. I know, she was likely concerned for me, but as I stated then, I am in fact fine. At least physically. Mentally... I'm not sure. Emotionally, well, it goes without saying that I am going to need therapy when I get out of this. This IS Lordran, after all.

(Time skip)

"We'll camp here."

I hear two sighs of relief when those words leave Artorias' helmet. The Wolf Knight, seemingly displeased with Winter's and Morris' reactions, shakes his head, before cutting down a tree with a single swing from his greatsword. I must admit, while Artorias isn't infallible, he is definitely a force to be reckoned with.

I walk towards the felled tree, and I start snapping decently sized branches off it for the fire. Artorias' helmet moves towards me, as if the Wolf Knight is glaring at me.

"No fire."

I scoff at that.

"Artorias, while you, me, and Ciaran may be perfectly capable of surviving a cold night, Winter and Morris are not."

Artorias does not seem best pleased by that response.

"And you are sure the smoke will not attract attention?"

What do I look like to you, an inexperienced idiot with only the most basic of ideas as to how the world works?

"As sure as I can be without killing everything in this forest myself."

Artorias, without a doubt annoyed, drags the fallen tree underneath a rather large tree, before splitting it in two, placing the two halves in such a way as to make it look like a friendly campfire, and proceeding to sit down on one of the logs. Seemingly out of nowhere, a masked shadow detaches itself from the canopy, and sits down next to the Wolf Knight. The shadow, Ciaran I believe, motions for me, Morris, and Winter to come join them. Morris and Winter seem eager enough, but... Oh, to hell with it, I might as well.

I walk over to the group, before dumping half of my gathered branches in the centre of the clearing, setting them alight with my cursed flames, and joining Winter and Morris on their log.

For a short while, the five of us sit in silence, enjoying the heat emitted from the cursed fire. Eventually, after about five minutes, I decide to speak up.

"Were you two knights testing us with those lone attackers?"

Artorias, known for his iron will, doesn't move an inch, but Ciaran jumps in her seat.

"How did you know?"

"Easy." I smile. "Artorias was in the lead, close enough to allow us to follow, but too far away to actually help in the case of an attack. You were nowhere to be seen, so I guessed that you were keeping the majority of our attackers at bay, but letting a few through. Not too difficult to put together." A sudden pain, likely from a tail blade, impacts the back of my head. "Ow! What was that for?"

Winter gives me a really miffed expression.

"If it were that easy to figure out, both me and Morris would have figured it out. You're just paranoid."

I sigh.

"At least being paranoid makes it hard to get the jump on you." I turn back towards the two Knights of Gwyn. "Now, why were the two of you trying to test us three?"

Artorias remains silent, but Ciaran manages a careful response.

"Why do you need to know that?"

I narrow my eyes slightly. Not enough to threaten anyone, but enough to get the message across.

"Why do you need to ensure we can handle ourselves?"

Artorias sighs, before answering.

"We don't trust you three. For all we know, you plan on stabbing us in the back the moment we let our guard down." Artorias turns to Morris. "And you. I would be a fool to trust you after you left under the false impression that Gwyn is your enemy."

Morris leans forward, anger in his eyes.

"Sorry to break it to you, _my lord_ , but I've seen the Darksign in person. A fiery brand, surrounding pure darkness. So tell me, if Gwyn isn't the source of the Darksign, which reeks of the First Flame might I add, then who or what is?" Artorias remains silent. "That's what I thought."

You know what, I should probably stop this before it gets out of hand.

"Alright, stop. Morris, Gwyn did create the Darksign, but as long as you die before the Age of Fire starts ending, you won't be touched by it. Artorias, you need to accept that Gwyn is not a perfect God of Sunlight, and instead is a tyrant over humanity, who has so effectively brainwashed his subjects that they believe their inherent power over darkness is a bad thing."

"Says the dragon with power over dark flames." Artorias motions towards the cursed fires keeping us warm. "You're the one trying to brainwash us!"

I sigh, and gesture towards Artorias and Ciaran.

"Case in point. And those aren't _dark_ flames, they are _cursed_ flames. The difference being that cursed flames corrupt the wielder over time, while dark flames have no ability to corrupt the user."

"And how are we supposed to believe you?"

With great difficulty, I try to remember what I looked like as a human.

"My blood, which is now black, used to be red. My scales were once far brighter, not the black, scarred flesh you see in front of you. And my eyes were once a vibrant green, not the orange, fiery irises you currently see."

To my surprise, it is not Artorias who responds.

"I believe you." Ciaran, since when... you know what, since deception is your trade, you can probably tell. "You left out important details, but I believe you. However, that does not mean I trust you."

As I am about to reply, I hear a pain-filled shriek in the distance.

"Did you hear that?" All four of my companions, although two are reluctant, nod their heads. "Alright, I'll go check it out. No matter what you hear, do not come looking for me."

With that closing remark hanging in the air, I walk into the currently dark, rather fear-filled forest.

(Time skip)

After what feels like an age, I've finally found what I believe to be the source of the shriek. A group of Abyss-corrupted humans, with bloated heads, elongated arms, and purple skin, are huddled together around a black flame reminiscent of Humanity. One of them is taller than the others, and holding what looks like a sorcery catalyst.

I grip Myrglaw tightly, knowing that a single hex would be more than enough to kill me again. I need a plan here. Well... not NEED, strictly speaking, but it would mitigate the chance of me getting a hex to the face.

So... the Hexer is the biggest threat, he/she needs to die first. Then I'll move onto the smaller problems, while being careful not to fall into that dark flame. I could probably take out a bunch with a quick stream of cursed fire, but that would leave me open to attack. Another option could be infusing a clenched paw with a huge amount of cursed fires, and punching the ground to create an explosion that would take out most of my opposition.

Oh, the things you can do without having to worry about friendly fire...

With a quick flick of Myrglaw, I set it alight, before rushing the Hexer. One of the smaller corrupted humans lets out a quiet shriek, similar to the one I heard earlier, giving the Hexer enough time to get up... but not enough time to get out of the way of my blade, which I swing in a horizontal arc. The smaller corrupted humans get out of the way of the swing, but the feeble Hexer, the only one with a staff, is caught on the neck. The black blade of Myrglaw passes straight through the flesh making up the neck of the poor human with little to no resistance, and moments later, the bloated head of the Hexer falls to the ground.

The other corrupted humans regain their bearings as soon as I turn around, mobbing me like a swarm of wasps. Mutated claws sit at the end of their fingers, scraping against my black armour without causing any damage. Laughing like a maniac, I infuse my left paw with cursed flames, and punch the nearest corrupted human in the torso. The creature shrieks in pain, its' entire body exploding violently in a display of cursed power. The other humans are caught in the blast, and they run off, screeching.

With grin, and a sigh, I start walking back towards the camp... only to hear a swarm of shrieks coming from that direction. I break into a run, panic setting in. What if this was some sort of plan? To lure me away from camp, then kill everyone while I was away? I doubt Artorias or Ciaran would care enough to help out Winter or Morris if they were to get hurt... or worse.

After what felt like seconds, but could have been minutes, I arrive back at camp... but I am literally a nanosecond too late.

Because I arrived just in time to see a corrupted, mutated, clawed hand pierce Winter's heart.

 **Another cliffhanger, because A. I couldn't resist, B. I've hit writers block again, and C. It seemed like a good place to stop writing.**

 **So, Winter is now... well, 'dead' is a subjective term. I mean, Obsidian has 'died' multiple times in this series, and I plan on killing him a few more times in this story Alonne. Get it? Alone? Alonne? As in Sir Alonne, the boss? [Insert 'wish I were dead' joke here.]**

 **Until next time... assuming, of course, that I manage to get my writers block out of the way.**


	13. 12: Fury

**Chapter 12: Fury**

 **I apologise for the long wait between this chapter and the last one. I would blame Writer's Block, but honestly, I've just been lazy with writing the last week or so.**

 **For those of you who are curious, the LOTR/Hobbit Nazgul theme is a good background music for this chapter, especially during the 'Artorias POV' section, for reasons that you are soon to learn.**

 **Anyhow, enjoy!**

 _Attachment is a double-edged sword. On one hand, being attached to someone gives you an ally, and impressive unity. On the other hand, the strength that unity gives you is artificial, and can be torn down easily by more ruthless or merciless enemies, who are willing to use a hostage situation to manipulate you._

 _And it gets worse. When that attachment is torn from you, the emotional anguish resulting from that moment can cause great ruin, to both you and your surroundings. I should know. It destroyed me, turned me into the monster I am today, as it has destroyed others. I would not be surprised if Malefor attempted to destroy the world because he lost someone he cared about._

 _And yet, mortals are drawn into that trap by their own emotions. Forced to experience loss, with very little say in the matter. But what do I know. I only have one side of the story._

 _The dead have the other._

(Obsidian's POV)

I feel my eyes widen at the sight of a clawed hand through Winter's chest, unable to fully comprehend what I am seeing. Winter. The dragoness who kept me company during my first excursion from the Dragon Realms, who, if memory serves, only wanted to go back to her family. Dead.

Without thinking, I hurl Myrglaw at the creature -no, _beast_ \- responsible for killing the dragoness. The black, serrated blade pierces the creature's head, killing it far too quickly for my liking, and I rush over to Winter, practically on all fours, hoping that the wound is not as severe as it looks.

My hopes, however, are thrown to the wind when I get close enough to actually see the open wound. A massive, open hole, through which I can see the broken remains of Winter's heart, still contracting in a vain effort to keep the dragoness alive. Red blood, in quantities that I never thought could exist inside a living being, pours from multiple opened arteries, staining Winter's azure scales a deep red.

I place a paw on Winter's cheek, angling her head to allow me to see her eyes. Both blue orbs focus on my irises, despair evident. Winter opens her maw, trying to speak, but unable to say a word. Blood has filled the throat of the poor dragoness, preventing her from speaking.

After what feels like an eternity, Winter finally manages to get some broken words out of her focal chords.

"Please... family... *Coughs Violently* tell... love them..."

Knowing that I would never forgive myself if I refused a dying wish, I nod my head. Winter, despite the obvious pain she's in, smiles, before her heart visibly stops beating, and the blood flowing from the open wound slowly stills.

To think, such a caring dragoness loses her life in such a simple manner.

Solemnly, I close Winter's dead eyes, praying silently to the draconic Ancestors (for the first time) that she will find peace in the afterlife. Tears build up in my eyes, and I close them.

And when I open my eyes again, the only thing I know is pure, undiluted **FURY** **!**

(Artorias' POV)

I watched it all. I saw the corrupted human pierce the heart of the blue dragoness (Good riddance). I saw the black dragon rush to her side, killing the mutated citizen with his glaive. I saw him close the eyes of the dragoness, before praying to whichever God he considers holy (Likely the Pygmy Lord who found the Dark Soul).

And now, I see his freshly opened eyes. There is no white left there, just pure black. The veins inside those eyes are glowing a slight orange, as is the eye-gemstone inside the ring he wears, and his irises.

The black dragon slowly rises, a pure black mist escaping from between his scales. Black and orange fires, like the flames that kept that Cleric and the late dragoness warm, seem to radiate from the dark dragon, burning the ground surrounding him. Almost like a Hollow, the dragon's eyes slowly look around at the carnage, eventually resting on me. A sudden anger flashes in those eyes, before the dragon extends his -hand? Paw?- towards his glaive. The vicious weapon pulls itself free from the carcass of the dead human, an orange energy surrounding it, before flying towards the dragon's paw. He catches it with his right paw, eyes still focused on me, an unnatural hatred simmering behind his pupils.

 **"TOL ARCHAN!"**

With a foreign battle cry I have never heard before, the dark dragon charges towards me with frightening speed, swinging his glaive towards me in a horizontal arc. I barely manage to bring my greatshield up in time to block the swing. The serrated glaive impacts my titanite greatshield far harder than I expected, almost knocking it out of my grip. I quickly counter with a shield bash, hoping to catch the dragon off guard, only for the scaled warrior to leap over me, using his wings to propel him into position behind my back.

I spin around just in time to block a stab from the serrated glaive. The weapon pierces my shield with relative ease, almost impaling my shield-arm. I drop my shield almost immediately, hoping that it will take that glaive out of the fight.

The dragon backs off a little, still holding his glaive with ease despite the added weight of my greatshield. With an impressive strength, he wraps his left paw over the shield, and proceeds to rip it off his weapon. The painful screech of metal tearing fills the air, and if it weren't for my hours of training, I would cover my ears in pain. As it is, I merely flinch.

Apparently, that was enough to give the black dragon an opportunity. He once again rushes me, and this time I lack a shield with which to protect myself. In an attempt to counter, I bring my greatsword into a high-guard, hoping the dragon will foolishly continue to blindly charge me. I allow a small smile to grace my lips when I am not disappointing. If anything, the darkened dragon only sped up his charge.

As soon as the dark creature gets within reach, I slam my greatsword down with impressive speed... only to find the path of the weapon blocked by a black, crystalline shaft. My eyes widen in surprise, but I am not allowed a moment to comprehend what I am seeing. My greatsword is parried with relative ease, leaving me open for a counter hit.

When that counter attack comes in the form of an overhead swing, I bring my greatsword back around in an attempt to block the blow. The titanite blade of my weapon manages to get underneath the serrated glaive, and I almost let out a sigh of relief. I say almost, because the dragon moves his weapon underneath mine, before flicking my greatsword out of my grip with a strength I have only ever seen in Dragonslayer Ornstein, the captain of the Knights of Gwyn.

Before I get a chance to back away, I feel a serrated blade cut slightly into my neck, deep enough to draw blood. I look down slightly, getting a proper look at the dragon who somehow bested me after I killed him.

Glowing orange cracks in his scales are visible in the area surrounding his left paw, the one wearing the black ring. His eyes have completely blackened, the only colour visible being the orange of his irises. The dark mist from before is gone, replaced by scorching hot cursed flames.

 **"You saw what happened, and you did _NOTHING_ to save her." **So, even in this state, the dragon can speak. Even if the voice is more distorted than New Londo. **"Give me a reason not to repay you with a swift death."**

I allow myself a smile when a dagger appears at the neck of the dragon.

"How about the dagger on your neck?"

With a snarl, the black dragon brings his tail up like a scorpion, and stabs his hidden assailant with his tail-blade. The previously hidden ally falls to the ground... revealing her to be Ciaran. I rush towards my fellow knight, ignoring the blade pressed to my throat, and I am surprised when I notice that the wound is not fatal. A stab wound in the back, yes, but it is far too low down to have hit the heart.

Slightly surprised, I turn back towards the dragon, expecting the same hate-filled creature that disarmed me mere moments ago.

Yet what I got was a burning, ebony blade flying towards my neck.

(Obsidian's POV)

Funny, really. How someone as great as Artorias lost his life so easily. All it took was endangering a fellow knight, and he completely dropped his guard. Callous of me, yet the knight deserved it. He watched, _watched_ , as a friend of mine got their life taken, and he did nothing to prevent it. I may not have had any feelings for Winter, but seeing her die hurt nonetheless. It still hurts, a nagging pain at the back of my mind.

With a twist, I pull Myrglaw from the throat of the Abysswalker. He coughs a few times, each lurch of his chest bringing up even more blood, before his armour lies still, and begins to disintegrate in a manner similar to Kalameet. Ciaran, barely still alive, crawls over to Artorias' disintegrating body, muttering under her breath.

It doesn't take much thought to decide to leave Ciaran where she is. She will either bleed out, get killed by the inhabitants of Oolacile, or get rescued by that cleric who helped me kill Kalameet.

With a burst of energy, I launch myself into the air, wings extended and beating. I know where I am going, and who I am going to kill. I may have just killed the hero of a certain story, but that does not mean the villain needs to survive too.

A smile graces my maw as the though crosses my mind. After all, there is only one nearby being who possesses a large fragment of the Dark Soul.

 **Well, it has been a long time coming, but Obsidian has finally broken under the pressure his own power puts on him. No, he is not 'evil' as such, he has simply obtained a cruel streak to go alongside his hypocritical nature.**

 **Until next time...**


	14. 13: Hatred

**Chapter 13: Hatred**

 **I bet you thought Obsidian's anger episode was over, right? Well... more like half-right. I said in the last A/N that he broke, and I meant it. Obsidian may not have had any feelings for Winter, but her death has been 'like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche', to quote Gandalf from LOTR. As for what I mean... well, I'll let you theorise. If you read the first story in this series, then you should have all the pieces needed to put together the big picture.**

 **Enjoy!**

 _What is worse, to live and watch all your loved ones die, or to die with them? To forever carry their memory and morn their loss, or to leave with them, and let whatever memory the world had of them fade away? A question I have been asking myself since the beginning of my memory. A question of the Impossible vs the Unthinkable, in my opinion. Rock and a hard place._

 _Most do not understand. They would say it is better to live. Are they right? ...Perhaps. But they cannot say, for they have not truly experienced loss. Loss is not a killer. No, it leaves you with nothing, no reason to continue... and then it leaves, expecting you to move on._

 _Yet, how can you move on? You still wake up every morning, expecting your lost ones to be nearby, when in truth there is nothing left of them. Most crack under the pressure, before having their emotional wounds healed by time._

 _I did not crack. I **shattered**_ _._

(Obsidian's POV)

Flight. Quite calming, all things considered. The gentle breeze on your face, the beautiful view of the world below you... perfect for clearing your head.

The only problem, is that my head is full of magma, not fog, so to speak.

 **"AAAAAAAAARRGH!"**

Almost as soon as I'm out of the earshot of Ciaran, I let out the scream of anger my rational mind has been so desperately been trying to contain. My scales, especially the ones surrounding my front left paw, burn hotter than the sun as I scream, letting off a trail of cursed flame and smoke as I fly. Myrglaw, which I carry in my front right paw, remains deceptively cool while my scales burn, as if offering support. With a slight frown, I look directly at the crystalline shaft of the glaive out of the corner of my eye. The black, almost shadowy crystal making up the shaft of the weapon is the same cold black as it was after my death, yet the crystal itself seems to have moulded slightly, thinner and more ornate than I remember.

With a snarl, I shift my focus back on the town below me, and the Abyss below it. There will be a time to wonder about whatever magic may or may not be imbued within my weapon, but now is not that time.

Now is the time I kill the Father of the Abyss, and Primeval Man.

I focus my glare on a pitch black crack on the ground, one large enough to fit a troll out of, and I dive...

Fitting through the crack in the ground is not a challenge in the slightest, it was slightly larger than I thought, but I severely underestimated the Abyss. Black, cold mist floats about, making my eyes worthless, and quite literally chilling me to the bone. A sense of dread slowly fills me, too slowly for me to have noticed up until now.

Out of what looks like thin air, a massive, furred hand, with eyeballs might I add, appears and grabs me painfully by the wings. I grind my teeth together in agony, but I refuse to give this thing the satisfaction of getting a scream, or even just a grunt, out of me. Thankfully, though, I am pulled into a clearing, where the dark, cold mist cannot be seen, and I am promptly dumped in the middle of the clearing.

I get up cautiously, flexing both my wings experimentally. Pain which I refuse to show launches through my back, almost making me keel over again. Instead, I plant the blunt end of Myrglaw on the ground, and effortlessly push my flames to the blade of the weapon. A cursed light fills the clearing... illuminating a giant, incredibly powerful monster.

* * *

For an age, I do little more than stare at this monster. There is no other word that describes this... thing. A twisted, dark wood staff in one limb, two limbs on the ground, the giant, furred hand which grabbed me, the hundred glowing red eyes... even the sheer level of anger, desperation, and madness that I can feel. Any one of those things would be enough to make me shudder, but all of them at once is... terrifying. Every fibre of my rational mind is telling me to flee, that I can't beat this thing.

Yet rationality was thrown to the wind the second Artorias killed Winter.

I twist myself into my most desperate combat stance, the only one I practised back in Warfang Castle and haven't used up until now. Three limbs on the ground, front right limb gripping Myrglaw like a vice and pointing it directly at the monster in front of me, head raised, and wings extended to their full length. In response, the creature in front of me gives an ear-splitting roar, so loud it almost deafens me, before running at me at speeds faster than should be possible. Speeds that reminded me of Artorias.

Fuelled by my anger towards the Abysswalker, I leap above that thing, my cursed flames running rampant within my body. I hit the ground with a snarl, cursed embers smouldering within my maw. Pain flares through my front left paw, especially through the claw with a certain ring on it, but instead of wincing I use the pain to further fuel my fighting ability, leaping backwards out of the way of an incoming hex. With another snarl, I dash towards the creature, lighting up the blade of Myrglaw further with cursed flames.

The monster in front of me focuses a dark energy towards his twisted staff, which explodes just as I am about to slice an eye off the creature. The exploding darkness launches me backwards fast enough to break the sound barrier, sending me towards the dark mist surrounding me and my opponent. Almost panicking, I dig the blade of Myrglaw deep into the ground, slowing me down just enough to allow both my hind legs to anchor themselves onto the ground. This time, instead of charging the creature in front of me, I launch a cursed fireball out of my maw, hoping to catch him off guard.

Evidently, this thing has fought dragons before, since it leaps out of the path of my fireball before it even leaves my maw, before counter-attacking with another hex. Specifically, a storm of dark projectiles.

I allow my cursed flames free reign within my body, infusing my own power with my physical ability, before leaping into the storm of projectiles as it slowly expands. With deceptive precision, I position Myrglaw in front of any dark orb which is about to hit me deflecting each projectile. After about two seconds, which felt like two hours, I reach the 'eye of the storm', the monster creating it focused entirely on the darkness flowing from his staff. With a grim smile on my face, I charge the creature, who notices me a fraction of a second too late.

I horizontally slash Myrglaw as soon as I reach the creature in front of me, breaking his twisted staff in two. I land crouching, getting up and turning towards the beast who no longer has a catalyst for hexes.

The creature takes a moment to point his broken catalyst at me, before screaming in rage when he realises that his catalyst no longer functions. I smile grimly, charging the beast as it has its' fit of rage... only to be picked up by the giant, mutated, furred hand. The hand tosses me about as if I were little more than a stress-relieving object, beating me against the floor four or five times in sheer rage, before throwing me across the clearing. I get up, my head spinning with nausea, and my front left paw burning hotter than the Bed of Chaos.

Through double vision, I manage to spot the dark creature advancing on me, ready to finish me off. I close my eyes just as a mutated fist is brought down on top of me...

But the blow never lands.

Instead, a literally blinding pain launches through my left paw, burning through my scales all the way up to my shoulder. I scream in pure agony. If any torture has the potential to break me, this is it.

After what feels like millennia, the pain subsides, being replaced by a slight burning sensation. I open my eyes, and glance at my left paw. Although I cannot see underneath the gauntlets protecting the limb, the paw itself is a different story. Originating from the ring on my claw is a series of glowing orange cracks, the glow seeming to shift like magma. The gemstone on the ring itself has also changed into a glowing, pure orange, serpentine eye, which is staring directly at me.

The dark beast, who backed off while I was writhing in pain, decides that I have had enough of a respite, charging at me with renewed vigour. With reflexes I never knew I had, I leap out of the way, cursed flames following me as I leap, and the cracks in my left paw scales glowing brighter, almost as if they are strengthening me.

And I suddenly realise why. The Calamity Ring, which supposedly only weakens the person wearing it, has burned some form of strength into my flesh.

Whoever decided the way the Calamity Ring in the Dark Souls games worked was incredibly smart.

Because I can already tell this strength is going to be addictive.

 **And... cut! I know, the Calamity Ring in the games does weaken the player character, but think about the Dark Souls 1 description of the item for a minute, and ask 'why?'. I did. It lead me to using it the way I currently am.**

 **To address the fact that Obsidian stated that Artorias killed Winter when he clearly didn't, that is because the black dragon entirely blames Artorias for Winter's death. And also because he isn't thinking clearly, but a side effect of using cursed powers is being cursed and corrupted, so... yeah.**

 **Until next time...**


	15. 14: Shadow

**Chapter 14: Shadow**

 **It took quite a while to come up with a suitable chapter title, but I've finally managed to come up with one. Turns out, the simpler solutions are sometimes the best ones. Who knew? Don't answer that, I have an ego to maintain.**

 **Anyhow, before you say 'Obsidian is OP, plz nerf', I will say that no, he is not OP, and he does not even come close to comparing to any of the major players of the Dark Souls universe. Gwyn (Before he sacrificed himself), Nito (Before he started raising his army of skeletons), the Witch of Izalith (Before the Bed of Chaos), etc. Manus... well, you are about to find out.**

 **Enjoy!**

 _Darkness. Such a serene thing. Cold, and unforgiving yes, but serene. Anger, hatred, fear... those emotions have no place there. The emotions I draw my flames from, my flames themselves, have no place there. Which begs the question: What is my purpose? Why do I have a power that seems dark, yet feeds off emotions not of darkness?_

 _The answer: My fires were created for one thing. To destroy. There is a reason my flames are cursed. Normal flames spread, rely on physical fuel, and can only harm the physical world. Cursed flames feed off emotion, burning not only the physical form, but also the mind. They feed of the emotional anguish of others, burning until the source of the emotion is dead._

 _In other words, when I finally lose control for good, someone had better be ready to stop me._

 _If not... then both the Dead and the Living are doomed._

(Obsidian's POV)

I flex my left paw, the one with the ring on, a strange, intoxicating power flowing through my body, and burning my front left limb. The cracks through my scales burn a bright orange, illuminating the scales they now scar. A small smile graces my face, and I grip Myrglaw like a vice, anger flowing through my system. Even if this is not Manus, although its' power suggests otherwise, it is a pawn of the Abyss which lured Artorias here. The Knight who killed Winter, and who I killed in turn.

 **"TOL ARCHAN!"**

Never has that battle cry been so fitting. Vengeance comes, indeed, Manus, father of the Abyss. As it does to everyone who played a part in the death of Winter.

With fresh anger in my system, I charge the creature of the Abyss in front of me. The beast, without his staff and therefore without his power, decides to resort to more violent means, swinging his overgrown, mutated arm at me in an attempt to bat me away. With a smirk, I leap over the arm, slashing with my tail blade at the offending appendage as I leap, Myrglaw poised to impale the creature in front of me. The monster, seemingly being more intelligent than I thought, leaps to my left, avoiding my stab before I had even begun the movement. A mistake I will be sure to correct in the future.

I whip around, slashing Myrglaw horizontally as I rotate, and I hear the satisfying sound of flesh meeting my weapon before I even completely turn around. Unfortunately, when I do turn around it is to meet an overgrown backhand, which is speeding towards me.

A fresh stab of pain flows through my front left limb, and my cursed flames fully surround my body, along with... some orange energy I can't quite place, blinding me to the blow which never lands. The flames clear a fraction of a second later, revealing my enemy exposed, with his overgrown hand somehow behind me. With another grin, I launch myself at the head of the beast, this time without drawing my blade back.

And this time, the creature does not manage to retreat. Myrglaw pierces one of the many red eyes, going deep into the skull of the beast thanks to my entire weight being behind the blow. The beast screams, before throwing me off with its' overgrown hand. I land roughly, digging the claws of my hind legs into the ground to anchor myself, before looking at my enemy.

The creature is clutching his ruined eye with his smaller arm, his large one seeming to hold up most of the weight of the creature as it rests it on the ground, in a similar manner to an ape. I glance at the ring on my claw, a faint, orange light escaping from the eye-gemstone in the centre of it. I wonder... the ring started to seemingly give me a boost to my power when I was about to die. I wonder... could I harness that power consciously?

While the creature is still clutching its' eye, I extend my front left paw towards the beast, the glowing cracks in my scales brightening along with the gemstone in the centre of the ring. Not knowing what to expect, I clench my paw, focusing all my willpower towards hurting the beast.

A sudden, burning pain hits my entire front left limb, the cracks brightening, and carving a path through the scales on my paw. I almost fall unconscious, so great is the pain, but I barely manage to remain awake, focusing my eyes on the creature in front of me.

And it is surrounded by the same energy that glowed from the Eye of Kalameet. If the screams of pain are anything to go by...

Kind of unsurprising, really, since the ring used to be that eye. With a snarl, half of pain, and half of anger, I clench my paw tighter. The pain I feel doubles, but nonetheless the abyssal ape is slowly torn apart by the glowing energy, a still beating heart being visible after mere seconds. Before I get a good look at it, the heart is torn to shreds, blood literally exploding from the chest of the creature.

Eventually, with a final scream of agony, what remains of the monster collapses, bones clearly visible, and eyes ripped violently from their sockets.

After a long sigh, I collapse in similar agony, burning pain lancing across my entire front left limb, even making its' way up to the shoulder. Eventually, the pain recedes, as does the glow from the cracks in my scales and the ring. Painfully, I undo the gauntlet on my left limb, hoping that the pain was little more than exactly that; pain.

Unfortunately, it would seem like I am mistaken. Burns have completely seared the scales off my limb up to the elbow, and past that there are snake-like cracks through each scale, through which burnt, grey flesh is visible. I unbuckle the armour covering my shoulder, and use my front right paw to trace one of the cracks, finding that they go all the way up to the base of my neck.

After strapping my armour back on, which is even more painful thanks to the burnt flesh, I slowly limp towards what remains of my opponent. Satisfyingly, the dark, corrupted flesh of my opponent has been scattered around a small area, a black sprite in the centre of the carnage. I walk towards the sprite, before kneeling, and attempting to pick it up in my undamaged paw. My appendage moves straight through the sprite, which is absorbed directly into my body.

The next thing I know is pain. Think the worst headache you have ever experienced, triple the pain, and add nausea along with hallucinations, and that will roughly sum up what I am currently feeling. Memories that are not my own flood my mind, contending with it for dominance. I feel my own memories push back, trying to remain, only to be shoved down by the new images and people. A fresh wave of pain floods my mind, forcing me to my knees. I clutch my head in sheer agony. Make it stop, please, make it stop...

And the nausea overtakes my mind, and I finally fall into the blissful state of unconsciousness.

* * *

I open my eyes slowly, expecting pain, only to find myself surrounded by the familiar darkness of the Abyss. It isn't cold, or unwelcoming like before. Instead, the darkness is... calm. Serene, even. Unconsciously, I let out a calm sigh, all the anger built up inside me slowly dissipating into the calm darkness surrounding me.

And yet... I suddenly panic, remembering what happened just before I lost consciousness. I absorbed a dark sprite, which then started trying to overwrite my memories. My heart beating furiously, I search my mind for something, anything, that can reassure me that I still retain everything important. Yet... I can recall my arrival in the Dragon Realms, and everything that happened afterwards, but almost all of my memories of my human life are simply... gone. The memories of my parents, few and precious as they were, are just... did I even have parents? I know I did. But... if I did, why can I not remember their faces? Surely I would.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of those thoughts. They are simply not important. I know I had a human life, yet it has no impact on anything anymore. I can still remember everything important, like the lore of... Dark Souls, I think it was called.

Now... how to get out of here? My wings are damaged, not necessarily broken, but too damaged to be useful. I could probably climb out, if need be, but... oh, to hell with it, there is always another way out. After all, dying teleports Undead to the nearest Bonfire.

I turn around, wondering if there is a nearby cliff... and I almost die out of a heart attack.

Because, in front of me, there is a glowing silver, ethereal dragon who I knew all too well. Shaking slightly, I open my maw to speak.

"I watched you die."

 **And... cliffhanger, because why not? I could probably have kept writing and made this chapter longer, but I have to sleep sometime. I'm only human, after all.**

 **Now... who is the dragon, you ask? I will let you speculate here. Even if the next chapter is already out, take a break, grab a drink, maybe pick up some popcorn, and just think for a minute about everything in this story so far. Maybe even stop reading, and pretend this story has a happy ending. Because it doesn't. Every major character in this story is not going to have a happy ending, true to the theme of Dark Souls, so unless dark stories are not your thing, stop here. Things are going to get a lot darker before this story will end.**

 **For those of you who are willing to keep reading, until next time...**


	16. 15: Blood Price

**Chapter 15: Blood Price**

 **I'm almost sorry about the cliffhanger in the last chapter, but at least they keep you hooked. I hope. If not, then I'm doing something wrong. I'm probably doing something wrong anyway, but oh well, I'm not perfect.**

 **Feel free to leave a review, even if you have nothing positive to say. At least a negative review tells me that I'm doing something worse than the rest of the story.**

 **Be warned, there is a lot of dialogue in this chapter.**

 **Anyhow, enjoy!**

 _All power demands a price. In the case of a sorcerer, that price is simple concentration. In the case of a cleric, that price is unyielding faith. And yet... none of that power is great enough to fell nations. Yes, sorcerers can protect their kingdoms, and clerics can heal wounds, but the only powers great enough to cast a nation into anarchy are the ones which demand a higher price._

 _I am, of course, talking about a Blood Price. All great powers demand one, whether it is in the form of a sacrificed animal, or the death of the user. Even the First Flame requires a Blood Price in order to continue burning. I have watched thousands die to meet some 'blood' criteria, seen great kings die at the incorporeal hands of their own power. I know the dangers of great power._

 _Yet I wield it all the same. Ethics are what hold back 'heroes', what prevents them from felling threats to their friends and family._

 _I do not, and will not, make the same mistake. Because someone has to sacrifice, so others do not suffer in their place._

(Obsidian's POV)

"I watched you die."

I did. I saw the clawed hand pierce her heart as Artorias stood by and did nothing. I watched her bleed, red blood spilling from her broken chest. And yet... in front of me is a perfect replica of the dead ice dragoness, glowing a bright silver, and slightly transparent. Winter, somehow not dead.

"How..." No, this isn't real. Whatever this is, it is coming from that black sprite I absorbed. "No, you're not Winter. She died. I watched her beating heart, torn and ragged, die. I saw the claw pierce her chest. Whatever you are, you are not her."

The incorporeal dragoness steps forward, the light being emitted by this... _thing_ scorching my scales in a similar manner as Mithril's light. I step back slightly, falling onto all fours as the light burns into my flesh. With a pained grunt, I force myself to look at the being in front of me.

The light, dim as it is, burns my eyes to the point where sight is difficult, yet I still look. The ethereal dragoness looks directly at me, perfectly silver eyes staring at me from above.

 _"Obsidian."_ This creature even has the voice of Winter, but it is distorted, echoing in the infinite darkness of the Abyss. _"Please, listen to me."_ I open my maw to speak, but the light scorches even that. I growl in pain, but my gaze focuses directly on the silver, glowing irises which are focused on me. _"You need to stop this. I saw what you did to Artorias. I have never seen you in such a rage. Please, stop, before you are consumed by your own-"_

 **"No."** I state clearly, despite the sheer pain from the light in front of me. **"Get. Out. Of. My. Head."**

The dragoness shakes her head, sorrow seeping from her very form, but I will not be fooled.

 _"I am not in your head, yet I am no illusion."_

I force myself onto my two hind legs, Myrglaw uselessly lying on the ground.

 **"You lie. Whatever you are, your mere presence scorches me. So I will ask you again. GET. OUT. OF. MY. HEAD!"**

 _"For your own sake, please stop this."_ Or what? _"I cannot rest until you are at peace. I know, my death broke you, but the pain-"_

 **"Pain?!"** I roar loudly at Winter, if this is her. **"You speak to ME of pain?! You cannot imagine what pain is! I died, and was brought back! I felt the cold steel of Artorias' blade pierce my still-beating heart! I watched, helpless, as your own life was stripped from your being! I was ripped, by Abyssal powers, away from Firana, the ONLY dragoness who has EVER shown me real kindness. Not even you can claim that. So tell me, _Winter_ , who are you to speak to me of pain?!"**

The dragoness' face contorts, and she closes the distance between me and her in a literal flash. I recoil from the burning light, shielding my eyes with my wings.

 _"You think you are the only one who has suffered, the only one who has experienced pain? I felt the pain as my heart was torn to shreds. I saw the distress in your eyes as you watched my life ebb away. Nothing hurt me more, seeing a friend such as you watch me move onto the afterlife, unable to follow yourself thanks to that accursed brand. But you know what hurts more than that?! Seeing you now. I don't recognise you anymore. Obsidian was a dragon who never gave in to anger, who never let his own power control him. You are not that dragon."_

A twinge of something flutters in my chest, a spark of pain, but I extinguish it, pain replaced by anger.

 **"Do you really, _truly_ mean that, Winter?" **I raise my front left paw, forcing the ring on my claw to ensnare the incorporeal being in front of me. An orange energy surrounds the dragoness, and she begins thrashing against her new restraints. **"I died, and the Darksign brought me back. Brought me back to _this_." **Scorching hot pain flares through my front left limb, slowly working its' way up to my shoulder. Winter starts to look desperate, silver wisps falling off her ethereal body. **"You do not know pain. You think you had it hard? I will die, again, and again, forever unable to leave this mortal coil. I drew the short stick here."** I tighten my telekinetic grip around Winter, who is now barely able to maintain a distinct form. **"I will lose everything. EVERYTHING! And at that point I won't even care. Do not speak to me of pain. I will experience more than you can imagine before I finally go hollow, lose my own soul, and truly die."**

I release the grip on Winter, and she falls to the ground, her 'body' nothing more than a glowing wisp of energy at this point. Pain flares through my front left limb, before once again retreating to the paw with the ring on. Burn pains flood my system shortly afterwards, and I realise that the power I used must have used my own flesh and blood as fuel.

 _"Fine."_ Winter's voice has faded, but is still obviously there. _"But there are two things you should know. Firstly, I will be unable to pass on until you find peace. And secondly... that the power of the ring you wear will eat away at your body every time you use it. A Blood Price. Do not abuse it."_

With that parting remark, the ethereal dragoness (or what was left of her) dissipates into the Abyss, the silver energies being absorbed by the ocean of darkness and shadow surrounding us. I sigh in relief as the source of my pain, or at least the majority of it, finally leaves. The cold, serene darkness of the Abyss replaces the burning hot light which I assume is Winter's soul, soothing the burns I sustained from the painful silver light. Surrounded by comforting darkness, I coil up in a sleeping position, and I allow myself to rest after what felt like an eternity of fighting.

* * *

I open my eyes to what looks like Warfang from the air, a cool breeze blowing across my wings as I soar. I know this is a dream, but even in my own mind, flight is incredibly calming. Young dragons play in the skies below me, laughing happily as they chase each other. A sad smile crosses my face. I will never be able to experience that, and any memory I have of it will likely fade as time moves on.

"It is nice, isn't it?"

An all-too-familiar voice registers in my ear. I turn around mid-air, finding myself face-to-face with a much more... _normal_ version of myself. The scars are still there, as are all my more normal defining features, but the scales are orange instead of black, and the eyes are a bright, vibrant green, with no trace of black blood. I allow myself another sad smile. I could have been that, instead of the accursed dragon I am today.

"I know." I gaze at my copy, green eyes meeting my own. "But it is something I will never experience."

"Can you not?" My doppelganger asks, calmly. It is a simple question, not an accusation. "We both know you still have time before the more curse-like symptoms of Undeath manifest themselves. You could go back to the Dragon Realms when this is all over, have a second chance at life."

I sigh. If only.

"If only I could. I have already lived two lives. I am loathe to start a third."

The orange dragon looks at me with concerned eyes.

"There are ways to cure the Darksign. You could go back to your second life, maybe even cure yourself of your cursed flames."

I shake my head, sadly.

"Both of those things are a part of me now, no more separate than the heart from the chest. And I could not doom Lordran to eternal darkness simply to cure myself of the Darksign."

"Yet you would also be curing others, and sparing many civilisations to come the fate that now befalls Lordran." I have to admit it, my copy makes a convincing argument. "Yet that is besides the point. I appeared before you for a reason. The sprite you absorbed was a shard of the Dark Soul, the one possessed by Manus, Father of the Abyss. As such, you should now be able to warp the Abyss to return to the present."

"Why?" I ask suddenly. "Why tell me this? Are you one of the draconic Ancestors or something, helping me out in my time of need?"

The orange dragon shakes his head.

"I am simply telling you that which you already know, but won't acknowledge." Way to dodge the question. "Goodbye, Obsidian. Pray that if we meet again, it will be under better circumstances."

My uncursed mirror evaporates, leaving me to dream freely. My mind clouds over, and I fall back into the blissful state of sleep.

* * *

"DAMMIT!"

I wake up with a rather loud scream coming from my own throat, thankfully not amplified by my cursed flames. I shake my head, clearing it of any thoughts, before reaching towards Myrglaw to pick it up. To my surprise, the weapon somehow leaps towards my extended paw, landing firmly in my grip. Before I have a chance to be surprised, the weapon burns with my cursed flames, which somehow _absorb_ the weapon, before being in turn absorbed by my own body.

Well... I suppose there are two possibilities here. I might be able to summon Myrglaw whenever I feel like it. Or, and this is more likely, my weapon has just been consumed by my own power to fuel said power. Great...

With a slight smile, I remember what I was told by... whatever that was in that dream. I reach my front left paw forwards, concentrating on the Abyss in front of me, and on Firana and Oscar. To my surprise, the darkness twists into a portal, through which I can see a beautiful, sunlit city from the skies. A red dragoness, scarred and beaten, is walking up the stairs of what looks like a grand cathedral, with a knight next to her. Neither appear to be speaking.

Suddenly, two large, golden knights emerge from the cathedral. One carrying a massive, oversized hammer, and the other carrying a golden Cross Spear. With horror, I realise what is happening. Ornstein the _Dragonslayer,_ and Smough, are about to engage a red _Dragoness_ and the knight accompanying her.

With a distorted scream, I leap through the portal. Space distorts and twists about me, and before I know it, I am falling towards the two golden knights.

Both of which have jerked their heads upwards, and have spotted me falling.

 **Yes, another cliffhanger, because a fight with Ornstein and Smough deserves a whole chapter dedicated to just that one fight. Hate me for it all you like, but cliffhangers are supposed to keep people hooked, and if the view count is anything to go by, it is working.**

 **I know, one of my worse chapters, oh the humanity. I wish I could get consistent quality with my chapters, but that is pretty much impossible for someone like me. Especially considering the fact that my computer isn't the most reliable, and on more than one occasion has erased everything I have written.**

 **Until next time...**


	17. 16: Sunlit Shadow

**Chapter 16: Sunlit Shadow**

 **Well, it has probably been established already, but this is NOT a fairy tail, happy ending, Disney princess story. This is a fantasy story which is going to likely involve detailed torture in either this chapter or the next, so if you are not comfortable with that, go read something more catered to your tastes, perhaps something like LOTR.**

 **I have said it before, but if you have any suggestions, please make them. I can't accommodate everyone, so the first suggestions will be the first ones considered. I do have plans, but they are bankrupt of details (and creativity).**

 **With all that said and done, enjoy!**

 _Anger is a powerful tool, but it is a manipulating one. It gives people strength, me especially, but under its' influence you can do terrible things without realising. Things you may later regret. I know from experience. I tortured, maimed even, a knight who was merely doing his duty, only killing him when he begged for death. But do I regret what I did? No. I regret feeling the way I did at the time, but not what I did during that time._

 _Breaking someone was surprisingly easy, all things considered. A serrated blade here, a twist there... torture is surprisingly simple. And so effective. People are a lot more fragile then we like to believe. We break easily. To quote the Hunger Games books, which I seem to remember reading despite not remembering when I read it or how I acquired it, it takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart._

 _And that is why I only kill when someone begs for death. Because at that point, they have broken. To let them live would be cruel, sadistic even. I may be both of those things, but death is a release I cannot take. I am not so cruel as to deny others that release._

(Obsidian's POV)

I fall down towards the golden knights below me at the speed of a meteorite, anger flaring as they advance on Firana and the knight beside her. Cursed flames lick my maw as I fall, eyes burning with pure hatred.

When I am a second away from impact, I try to summon Myrglaw, as my cursed flames absorbed it. Nothing happens, flames burning into the air in the shape of a glaive, but without anything actually forming. At the last moment, I improvise, shrouding myself in the cursed fires mere milliseconds before I hit the ground in front of the stairs. The larger of the two knights, the one with the giant golden hammer, attempts to bat me out of the air like a baseball, but thankfully his hammer flies over my head.

I impact the stairs of the cathedral with a heavy punch, cursed energy exploding from the point of impact. Both the golden knights are thrown back by the force of the explosion, heroically clinging to their weapons as they are launched into the rock making up the stairs. A rather nasty crunch is heard, and I suspect I probably broke one of the bones inside the golden armour sets.

While the two knights are getting up, I take the chance to look behind me.

And I see a red, scarred dragoness with tears in her eyes.

(Firana's POV)

I actually can't believe it. I saw Obsidian get taken, unconscious, by a giant, black energy, yet here he is, once again trying to protect me. Kind of sweet, really, even if the pure rage I saw in those eyes was truly terrifying.

Behind him, both the golden knights get up, weapons at the ready, the larger one with a clear limp after that explosion. Before I get a chance to say anything, Obsidian turns around, and launches himself at the two knights. The large one attempts to swing his hammer at him, but it shatters when Obsidian punches it with a clenched paw, infused with a strange orange energy which melts the scales off the paw in question. With a distorted roar that spoke of pure, undiluted _rage_ and _hatred_ , Obsidian leaps towards the golden knight... before getting intercepted by his fellow knight.

Deciding to get involved, I leap in front of the larger, wounded knight, fangs burning with pure fire. Obsidian looks at me, before nodding with understanding, and focusing on the thinner, faster knight. Ornstein, according to Solaire.

The larger knight walks towards me heavily, golden hands balled into tight fists. With a deafening silence, he breaks into a run, heavy legs making small craters in the ground. I launch a couple of small fireballs at the knight, who brushes them off with relative ease, the flames doing little to slow his advance. I leap off the edge of the stairs at the last second, wings extended and flapping. The giant knight turns towards me, still silent... and a lightning spear hits him on the head. I look towards the bottom of the stairs, and I find Solaire ready with another spear.

As the knight shifts his focus to the Warrior of Sunlight, I start bombarding him with fireballs. As expected, he shrugs them off. But Solaire's spears, on the other hand, pass through his armour with an efficiency I have only seen in Volteer, electrocuting the golden limbs and almost paralysing the knight at one point.

Between my fireballs, and Solaire's spears, the knight falters once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, collapsing onto his right knee. With a determination I did not know I possessed, I fly above the knight, and build up energy. A modified technique I learned from the Spider Witch, Quelaag.

When the build up energy reaches its' peak, I explode with a fiery brilliance only matched by a true Fire Fury. The massive explosion shatters the golden armour below me, and the knight finally screams in pain as my flames scorch his flesh, and the fragments of his armour bury themselves into his spine. The stone of the stairs is blasted away, broken rocks melting into magma which further scorches the knight.

After a couple of seconds, my wings completely give way. I collapse next to the corpse of the giant knight, and I actually puke when I see what I did to him. His skin has been burnt to a literal black crisp, golden shards halfway melted and buried in his spine. A tear escapes my eye... which almost blinds me to the lighting bold coming from the other golden knight.

I attempt to open my maw to scream in pain when it impacts me, but my entire body fails to respond, the sheer agony burning away all attempts of using my vocal chords. I choke for half a second as the lightning spreads to my stomach, pain mixing with disappointment and anger. The only comparison I can think of that effectively describes this agony would be Convexity.

After a whole ten seconds, the lightning finally dissipates into the ground. I groan in pain, my lungs too burned for anything else.

And out of the corner of my eye, I spot the purest concentration of Obsidian's cursed flames that I have ever seen.

(Obsidian's POV)

I wasn't angry. I wasn't livid. I wasn't even furious. There is no word to describe how utterly _disgusted_ and _hateful_ I felt when I saw Ornstein's lightning impact Firana. There is no word to describe how completely _violated_ I felt when I saw Firana's expanded stomach, as she writhed on the ground in agony. And there is no word to describe what I am going to do to the knight who caused it.

 **"NARV-IN I GAW!"**

I scream in sheer hatred at the golden knight, who claims to be a dragonslayer. He turns towards me, and I swear he is smiling underneath his helmet, which infuriates me further.

With another scream, this one completely incoherent, I run towards the dragonslaying knight of Gwyn. Without thinking about or questioning it, Myrglaw appears in my right paw, burning darkly with my cursed flames. The knight raises his spear, which crackles with yellow electricity as bright as the sun...

And Accursed Fires clash with Sunlit Lightning.

* * *

I duelled with Ornstein for what felt like years. At first, he had the upper hand, slicing precisely at me in an attempt to wear me down via blood loss. If the dragonslayer had gone for the kill first thing, I would be dead. But instead, he fought like this was a game, toying with me, slicing and stabbing only at my extremities. I could tell the dragonslaying ******* was enjoying himself.

But, as my wounds and pain piled up, I started to gain the upper hand. Ornstein wasn't tiring or slowing, I was simply getting faster and stronger, avoiding and parrying his precise strikes with speed and strength that I did not know I had, or even care that I had.

It was only after I managed to slice a hole in the Lion Knight's helmet that he started taking the fight seriously. He pulled out a talisman, and started wielding a spear in one hand, and lightning in the other. A couple of times, I would be grazed by his lightning, pain lancing through my body.

Thankfully though, the sunlit energy had no major effect on me. I broke the talisman halfway through the fight with an ironically lightning-fast strike, which forced the Lion Knight to use only his spear. At one point Ornstein managed to impale me on his spear forcing insane amounts of pure energy to flow through my being. I surprised myself when I got up after that, my rage tenfold.

Now, I swing Myrglaw downwards upon the spear of the knight as it stabs forward. The burning-hot cursed blade connects with the shaft of the weapon. With a flash of golden light, the weapon explodes, knocking Ornstein backwards, while I shrug it off, burning hot flames coursing through my body.

The Lion Knight gets up just in time to see the sharp end of my blade descend on his weapon arm, severing it from its' socket. The scream of pain I get after such a long time of silence actually puts a smile on my face, and I draw myself up to Ornstein's face. Through the slice in his golden helmet, I spot one of his golden eyes. An eye that is filled with defiance.

Oh, I think I will enjoy breaking him. Thoroughly.

(Firana's POV)

(Time skip)

I woke up to the sound of a stone screeching on metal. Eyes darting upwards, I leap to my paws, only for a sudden spark of pain to send me back onto the floor.

"Easy, you're wounded. Badly."

I look up, and I see Obsidian. His black scales, especially the ones on his paws, are glistening with red and black blood. Once again, I attempt to stand, this time slowly, before walking towards the black dragon, and painfully sitting down next to him. He finally smiles, before turning his head towards his glaive, and getting back to sharpening it. I quickly notice something different about the weapon, as the serrations are now much larger, and are sticking out of the blade.

"What happened to Nifred?"

Obsidian's smile disappears faster than I can blink.

"It changed. This is Nifred, renamed as Myrglaw, Dark Radiance." With a sigh, he puts down the glaive, blade embedded in the floor. "You can thank Artorias for that. I took a greatsword to the heart from him, and my cursed flames seem to have changed the weapon as a result."

I almost gasp, but there is one problem...

"How did you survive?"

"I didn't." Obsidian looks directly at me, giving me a clear view of his orange eyes. Which no longer have any white in them, signalling that Obsidian is very emotional right now. "I was... it is better for you to see it for yourself."

Obsidian unbuckles his chestplate, which falls to the ground with a loud clang. And underneath...

A ring of fire surrounds a black circle. If the descriptions from Oscar and Solaire are anything to go by...

"The Darksign...?!"

Fear quakes in my voice, as I see the accursed brand in front of me.

"Yes. The Darksign." There is no emotion in Obsidian's voice as he speaks. "Get some rest. I have an... unwelcome _guest_ to tend to."

(Obsidian's POV)

I watch carefully as Firana walks next to the nearby Bonfire, and rests her head near it. I smile sadly for a few minutes until Firana is sleeping peacefully, before walking towards the cathedral. I have unfinished business. Namely, the punishing of the Knight who almost killed Firana.

The sun is still in the sky, kept there by the God of the Darkmoon, and son of Gwyn. I can tell because no illusion can imitate the warmth of the sun. No illusion can hide the darkness from me. Not anymore. Not after the Abyss.

When I reach the room where the two knights were supposed to stand guard, I stop at the entrance, and look left. There, tied up with only the leather once underneath his removed armour to keep him warm, is the Lion Knight himself. I had not brought Myrglaw with me. I will not need it to effectively exact my revenge on this so-called dragonslayer.

* * *

I twist my claws with a grim smile on my face as I pull them out of Ornstein's eye, the knight screaming in agony as I pull my claw out, along with the ruined remains of his eye. Blood pours from the eye socket, covering me in even more blood than I already am. I will have to remember to wash myself before I go back, otherwise Firana will suspect something.

I shake my head, and I focus back on the ruined Dragonslayer in front of me. He manages to look me in the eye, golden irises meeting my orange ones. I have to admit, this knight has a strong will, but his fellow knight broke mine, and he almost broke it a second time. It is only fitting that-

"WHAT are you DOING, Obsidian?!"

A familiar voice screams in pure horror as I turn around quickly. Firana is standing there, eyes agape. I hoped to avoid this, but...

"*Sigh* This... _animal_ almost killed you! His accomplice killed _me_! There is a decent chance that his lightning killed the egg inside you which I spotted when you were being electrocuted! What would you have me do, let it all go like a harmless prank?!"

"Yes!" Firana screams at me. "He was trying to stop us, yes, but that was his job as a dragonslayer! You can't torture someone simply for doing their job!"

"I can, and I will!" I scream back, controlling my anger so it doesn't distort my voice. "I killed Artorias in response for him killing me. Ornstein's lightning tortured you, and probably killed your egg! OUR egg, remember?!"

"THAT IS NOT THE POINT!" Firana actually seems to be on the verge of attacking me, smoke leaving her nostrils. She takes a few deep breaths, before continuing. "I met a woman on my way here, with a white mask on. She said that a black dragon attacked her and left her for dead. I hoped that it wasn't you, but seeing this..." Firana pauses before continuing." I don't recognise you anymore."

I sigh, forcing my anger down through sheer willpower.

"Very well." I turn towards Ornstein. In his eyes, I can see what he is trying, and failing, to say. End it. Let him go. "I will release him from his torment."

With a flick of my tail blade, I slit the throat of the Lion Knight. He gasps, before falling forward. I thought he would die instantly, but instead he writhes on the ground for a bit, before finally lying still. A golden flame appears on top of him, his soul, which I pick up with my paw. It is tempting to crush it, but instead...

I turn back towards Firana, who is shedding tears. I extend the paw with the golden flame in, letting her see it.

"His soul." I explain unceremoniously. "I could crush it, and absorb its' power. But that would be cruel."

"Like torturing a defenceless knight?" Firana shot back. "I will not take it, if that is what you are asking."

"Very well." I sigh, before flying up to the balcony. A bonfire is there, burning lightly, unlit. I place Ornstein's soul within the bonfire, which then bursts into golden flames. "May Ornstein find redemption in the next world."

Firana flies up, thinking that I was consuming the soul... only to find it burning happily in the Bonfire. She looks at me, before realising what I did, and sitting down next to me. My eyes glow lightly, the reflection just about visible on my maw. Firana places her head on my armoured chest, and speaks.

"I loved you, Obsidian. I really did. But now..." The dragoness sobs between words, tears flowing down my armour. "Now I wish we never met."

Firana leaves before I can say anything, taking off and flying away faster than I can comprehend. Her words reverberate through my head. _I wish we never met_.

And that was the day that broke me. Properly. I lost everything, like the Darksign promised. But, unlike what it promised...

I cared. I was not hollow, I still felt emotion. And the misery that overtook me at that moment broke me. No, it shattered me. I felt like there is there was nothing left for me in the world, no reason to go on. Nothing... absolutely nothing. Just endless pain and suffering. Tears escape my eyes, black tears, but I did not care.

I screamed. Cursed flames overtook everywhere around me, burning everything in sight. Nothing could compare to the pain I felt that day. Nothing will ever compare.

* * *

After a whole hour, I collapse, shuddering in pure misery. The entire city has been burnt to ashes. Not even the Darkmoon God escaped, his mutated corpse a burnt husk. Firana must have escaped, she can fly, but... I don't care anymore.

I stay put for what feels like days, tears mixed with blood escaping my eyes. The pain I felt during that time was enormous, burning at my very soul. The only thing that kept me sane during that time was my ring, comfortably tightening around my claw, offering support. I suppose it came from the dragon of Calamity, and I just burnt a city to the ground, so it would be pleased with me, I think.

At the end of what must have been a week, I get up. I have no tears to spend anymore. No emotion to feel. I am truly hollow now, and I don't even care.

I find Myrglaw at the base of the former city wall, burning happily with my cursed flames. I pick the weapon up, before taking to the skies.

Firana can hate me if she wishes, but I will _not_ let the First Flame consume her.

 **And... that is the end of that chapter!**

 **So, Obsidian's sadistic side has properly shown itself, and the black dragon payed the price for it. I almost felt bad writing this, but it needed to be done. Winter's death broke Obsidian, that much is true, but Firana's rejection... well, it has not done him any favours.**

 **For those of you who are curious 'Narvi-in I gaw' means 'Burn in the Void'. It is the closest LOTR Sindarin phrase I could find to 'Burn in the Abyss', since 'Tol Archan' didn't seem to fit in that scenario.**

 **Until next time...**


	18. 17: Healed

**Chapter 17: Healed**

 **Alright, that last chapter actually made me reconsider my life choices, not because it was bad, but because I felt absolutely horrible doing that to Obsidian. On the plus side, and yes there is a plus side, at least his ring his now happy with him.**

 **To SKdaGamer, I got all the reviews you sent via PM, and I have taken your advice as seriously as possible. It may not have turned out as intended, but humanity isn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. Then again, neither is Gwyn. (Because Dark Souls jokes)**

 **Anyhow, on with the show!**

 _Ideals. Morals. These are the things that hold most mortals back. They believe that there is a line that must not be crossed, that there is a difference between good and evil. To an extent, they are correct. There is a line, there is a difference between good and evil. But that difference is defined only by intention. Every villain is the hero of their own story, yet they are painted as monsters. But, think about it for a moment. Would Malefor be seen as a villain if he had won? Would Gwyn be seen as noble if he had not sacrificed his life to protect his precious flame?_

 _So you see, history is written by the victors, ideals shaped by those in power. It is for this reason that they are a weakness, a weakness through which the cunning can manipulate the idealists. Idealists deny their labels if they are anything other than 'hero', or 'good guy'. To an extent, so do the manipulators._

 _The difference between them and me? I do not deny my label as a monster._

(Firana's POV)

(Just before Obsidian mentally shattered)

"I loved you Obsidian, I really did. But now..." I pause in anguish as I speak, tears streaming down both my face and Obsidian's black armour. "Now I wish we never met."

Before the black dragon could say anything, and before I could consider otherwise, I turn around, and take off. Tears continue to fall out of my eyes as I fly out of the cathedral, eventually reaching Solaire back at the Bonfire. I land next to the calm warrior of Sunlight, staring at the bonfire through my clouded eyes. The adherent of Gwyn sits down next to me, obviously noticing my anguish, and pulls me into a calming hug. I completely break down, the pure misery and heartbreak I am feeling finally showing itself.

Solaire makes no complaints, taking everything while looking at me warmly through his metal helmet. If anything, he pulls me closer, speaking softly about the Sun, and how it would heal me over time. I don't hear exactly what he says, but the message is clear, and I believe him. When I first saw Obsidian, I though he would heal the emotional wound I felt when he left. Instead... seeing him torture Ornstein for the simple sake of revenge... it only hurt me further.

And then...

An unnatural scream of pure agony and sorrow breaks out from the cathedral, along with an explosion of cursed flames. Solaire spots it through the doorway, like I do, and walks outside. I follow, tears still streaming out of my eyes, before allowing the knight to climb onto my back. I take one last, longing look at the expanding cursed flames, and the darkness following them, before I take off, flying towards Firelink Shrine.

While flying, my thoughts drift. I had never even imagined Obsidian changing that dramatically, but... I spoke the truth when I said I did not recognise him. I only hope he changes back before I reach the First Flame, if only so we can burn together.

(Obsidian's POV)

(End of last chapter)

I sit still at the top of the great wall of Anor Londo, thinking solemnly about what is to come. Someone will Link the Fire, it is inevitable. Even if I were to extinguish it, the accursed embers would only reemerge later on in the timeline. I could probably link it myself, but I have no desire to continue the legacy of Gwyn. My options are limited. Waiting would not ease my conscience, linking the flame would continue Gwyn's legacy, and extinguishing it would do nothing to further my goals. I could probably Usurp the flame if I was powerful enough, but only a Lord of Hollows has that kind of power, along with that kind of hunger.

I suppose... there is one other option. This world is reliant on the First Flame. If I could provide another source of life, then there would be no reason to Link the Fire, which would both remove the legacy of Gwyn, and save whoever is walking on the path to the Flame. The problem... there is no source of power that could replace the Flame.

Actually... that is a lie. There is one power that could. Infinitely powerful, life-giving, and free of Gwyn's influence. Not to mention, I can distort it to travel between large distances, thanks to a certain black sprite.

My resolve strengthened, I take off and fly downwards, towards Firelink. After all, it is the best place from which to access New Londo.

(Time skip)

Standing at the edge of the lift to New Londo, I quietly thank the draconic Ancestors that Firana and Solaire weren't here to see me. If they had, it would have probably resulted in my death, and a few more lost memories.

Unfortunately, the lift seems to be on its' way down, meaning that Firana and Solaire are going to be trying to kill the Four Kings. That complicates things, but oh well, I have worked in harsher conditions, this shouldn't be much trouble.

I wait about five minutes before diving down after the two, hoping that they don't hear my impact with the ground. An impact which, unfortunately, shatters the lift when I hit it, making it impossible for anyone to use it again. I actually feel my tail blade crack when it hits the ground, although I ignore the pain. I have been through worse, namely the stupid amounts of pain I felt when I killed a certain creature of the Abyss.

Brushing myself clear of all thoughts, I walk out of the lift door, expecting the city to be more or less a copy from Dark Souls... and if I were an anime character, my jaw would literally hit the floor here.

The city itself, while structurally similar to the Dark Souls incarnation, is in fact very different visually. The torches glow with a bright, ethereal blue light, and the city itself is twisted in an almost beautiful way, dark, transparent crystals deforming the buildings in such a way as to make the buildings look like they are made out of crystal. A twisted, ethereal tower of darkness rises from the centre of the city, untouched by the deformation.

Thinking this to be an illusion, I blink rapidly, and the tower disappears. The crystals are still there, but the ethereal tower is gone.

With a grin on my face, I leap into the water, diving towards the hole in the ground that leads to the Abyss. Undead shouldn't need to breathe, so I'll be fine. My eyes sting at the coldness of the water surrounding me, but I ignore it, focusing instead on the jaw-dropping, mind-breaking sight in front of me.

If the city above water was beautiful, then this place was even more so. It almost looks the same as the non-submerged city, except for the ripples of the water, and the light from the underwater, blue torches dancing around the structure of the city. I almost gasp, holding air in my lungs only out of reflex, taking my time to observe the city, before setting off towards the Abyss once again.

The entrance to the dark plane is naturally guarded by darkwraiths, probably undead darkwraiths, but i dispatch of them with a simple swipe from Myrglaw, using my wings to propel myself at plain stupid speeds through the water, before diving deeper into the Abyss... the only place devoid of light.

* * *

My eyes burn as water is slowly replaced by corrupted air, eventually leaving only the true Abyss within which I fall, no ground in sight, until I eventually hit a shimmering platform. I get up cautiously, taking my first deep breath of air... which promptly knocks me unconscious.

Or at least, I think it did. The world distorts around me, before the area is lit up by bright sunlight. I blink a few times, before my eyes adapt to the light, revealing a graveyard. A fully grown, red dragoness sits in front of one of the graves, with a black and red young dragon sitting beside her. The dragoness seems to be weeping, the dragon beside her trying and failing to look sorrowful. I attempt to place my paw on the shoulder of the dragoness... only for the paw to phase through her. The world distorts once again, changing into what looks like a classroom, with the young black and red dragon inside it. Young dragons are sitting around an arena, with a fully grown purple dragon fighting what looks like a fully grown version of Cynder.

While distracted on the fight, the young red and black dragon is hit in the back by some scrunched up parchment. He looks behind him, only to have more thrown at him. The dragon opens his maw to protest, but I hear nothing.

The world distorts once again, finally revealing the Destroyer, fully reformed. The red dragoness from earlier flies above the rock construct, pelting it with fireballs along with a multitude of other dragons, one of which is firing silver bolts of light at the stone construct. Despite the bombardment, the destroyer eventually reaches his 'birth' location after making a trip around the planet, before diving in. After a few moments, the planet breaks apart, fully grown dragons falling out of the sky from the sheer force of the planet's destruction.

The world shimmers again... this time showing what looks like the remains of the planet. Shattered islands float around, held to the centre of the planet by little more than a thin stream of Convexity. Corpses are clearly visible on each of the islands, some apes, some cheetahs, some moles, but the most common ones are dragons. The corpse of a purple dragon is visible on one of them. I silently shed a tear, and the world distorts once more... revealing the blackness of the Abyss.

"What a strange world you come from, young dragon."

I turn around in alarm, only to find myself face to face with a giant blue serpent, with somewhat human features and red, bloodshot eyes with no white in them. The serpent looks at me calmly, seemingly trying to decide something.

"I see. You have no desire to prolong Gwyn's age of fire, do you?"

I step back slightly, the blood in my eyes clearing slightly.

"How do you know?"

The serpent actually laughs, before answering.

"No servant of Gwyn would enter the Abyss in such a careless manner, nor would the Abyss respond to such a creature the way it responded to you. Forgive me, I have yet to introduce myself. I am Darkstalker Kaathe, seeker of the Dark Lord."

I laugh mirthlessly, a false smile gracing my face.

"I remember you. The primordial serpent of the Abyss, who wishes to extinguish the First Flame and show humanity the truth behind their ancestry."

The serpent, revealed to be Kaathe, nods his head.

"Indeed. Though I must ask, how do you know of me?"

My smile falls as easily as my facade.

"That is not important. What is important is that the only person I care about is trying to foolishly Link the Fire, and I need options. My current ones are limited, to say the least."

Kaathe seems to change slightly, turning from a hopeful seeker to a careful manipulator in seconds.

"I see. You have forgotten yourself, and you hope to save your mind through the saving of another. It will not work."

I almost snarl, but I manage to restrain myself.

"What are you talking about? I have not felt more like myself for days!"

"Liar." The serpent smiles, a great, toothy smile which actually causes me to shudder. "I can see it. You are practically hollow, only kept sane by purpose." The serpent opens his mouth, and a great screech emits from it. I avoid covering my ears, since sound has no effect on me anymore. After a couple of seconds, the screeching stops, and a small part of the Abyss condenses, forming a familiar sprite. "This is a Humanity Sprite, larger and more powerful than even a twin humanity. It should restore you to what you were. In exchange, I ask only that you defeat Gwyn, and allow nature to take its' course."

A true smile forms on my face, and I thrust my ringed paw through the sprite, expecting to absorb it... only for a strange, pure black energy to flow out of me painfully. I scream in agony, the pain distorting my voice to the point where I almost lose my sanity. The thick, black energy condenses inside the sprite, the memories I saw when I absorbed the first sprite once again playing in my minds' eye. I scream in pain again when I feel something unnatural get drawn from within my mind, forcing itself into the sprite in front of me.

After about ten seconds, the pain fades, and I pull my limb out of the sprite, which has grown significantly larger. I experimentally flex my ringed paw, cursed flames dancing at the tips of my claws, and the ring itself warming the claw it is on, and I swear the eye-gemstone _moved_ to look me in my eye. After getting up painfully, I look at Kaathe, who now has a look in his eye of sorrow mixed with joy.

"Thank you, dragon. I have drawn the darkness of Manus from you as poison is drawn from a body, along with most of the corruption infecting your mind. The combined energies, as you can see" Kaathe shifts his gaze to the black sprite. "have finally, after all these years, drawn two thirds of the Dark Soul together. When you are ready to return home..."

The primordial serpent leaves the sentence unfinished, but the meaning is clear.

"Thank you, Darkstalker Kaathe. May we meet again."

I truly smile for the first time, finally feeling like my old self. Not sadistic, although the desire to torture is still there, but... _happy_. I honestly feel like I did when I had just entered the Dragon Realms for the first time.

With a smile plastered on my face, I take off into the ruins of New Londo, somewhat free of my own corruption for the time being.

I only hope Firana sees this.

(Firana's POV)

"Are you sure?"

I speak out towards the Sunlight Warrior nearby, who is about to open the floodgates.

"Positive. We cannot kill those who deny the warmth of the Sun if we do not release the flood."

With a great push, the adherent of the Sun pushes the crank open, letting the flood-water finally leave the city. The water flows outwards, killing what look like feathered dragons as it falls into the chasm beyond...

And out of the corner of my eye, I spot a black dragon rise out of a destroyed tower, with a true smile on his face. I look carefully at him, anger and anguish both battling within me as I realise he is Obsidian.

Both of which wash away when I realise that his eyes are different. There is no black in the eyes, no glowing orange, just... white, with green irises.

 **Not one of my best chapters, but I was running out of ideas. I actually had to spend a lot more time than usual editing this chapter (I normally edit my chapters, this one just needed more editing, which takes more time). Feel free to leave flames and nitpicks in the review box, you trolls need someone to point and laugh at after all, since you have nothing better to do with your time.**

 **So... Obsidian isn't back to his old self, he _has_ changed, but his sadistic side and corruption have been mostly drawn out, and the rest of them has been suppressed. They will properly reveal themselves again in time, but that time will be really, _really_ long.**

 **Oh, and for those of you who are actually enjoying this complete sewage system of a story, (Yes that was supposed to be self-deprecating humour) thank you for reading up to this point, it is appreciated greatly.**

 **Until next time...**


	19. 18: Betrayal

**Chapter 18: Betrayal**

 **Alright, I'm back with another chapter, and believe it or not, there is actually a purpose to this particular bunch of A/N other than to boost up the word count.**

 **First of all, I feel the need to clarify a bit on Obsidian's sadistic side, and the 'reversal' of his corruption. When I said it wouldn't show itself for a really long time, what I MEANT to say was that it wouldn't completely control Obsidian for a really long time. As in, it will still show itself, but there will be few (if any) more torture scenes, and Obsidian will be slightly less self-centred for a short while.**

 **Secondly, the thing at the end of the last chapter where Obsidian's eyes turned green? Well... that won't last for longer than this chapter, if that. And no, the chapter title for this chapter is not a reference to Firana betraying Obsidian, because she has already done that.**

 **And finally, I have preformed a massive change of plans, in order to speed along the story. Most chapters from here would be little more than filler chapters, with a tiny bit of story to them, so I decided to skip that completely and get on with it.**

 **Now, with all that out of the way, onto the show.**

 _What is betrayal? Is it changing sides, acting against someone you love, or something else entirely? The answer: All of those, and none. You see, betrayal is perspective-relative, like 'Good' and 'Evil'. Is it betrayal to act against someone who you are loyal to, in order to stop them from hurting themselves? Only from the perspective of the 'betrayed'. In the eyes of the 'betrayer' they have saved the life of the person who they acted against, and yet the price is being hated and despised by the person who was saved._

 _However... when someone attacks you on a whim, without hearing anything you have to say... and when they refuse to listen to their friends, who are trying to stop them... that is true betrayal. That is when the hammer falls, and the cold sting of treachery hits you. Of course, I don't speak from my own experience, but rather the experience of another. I played a part in that betrayal, but my loyalties never changed._

 _If only that was seen by the person who was betrayed._

(Obsidian's POV)

I shoot out of the ruined tower fast enough to burn my wings from the sheer friction against the air, which I'm surprised is not water. While flying upwards, my left wing grazes one of the stone, circling stairs inside the tower. A slight sting of pain burns the edge of my wing, but it'll take more than a sting to make me flinch.

Exiting the tower much more quickly, I angle my wing membrane to slow me down, reducing my flight to little more than a hover. Calmly, I glance around the ruined city, slightly surprised that the floodgates have been opened, but even more so when I see the two creatures at what I can assume is the floodgate controls.

A red dragoness, and a knight with a sun crest emblazoned on his shield and chest-leather.

I allow myself to properly smile when I see them, and I start flying in their direction. Worry gnaws at the back of my mind, worry that Firana will not realise that I would not have tortured Ornstein in my current state of mind (Although I would happily torture anyone if it meant saving Firana's life). But despite that, I continue flying in my current direction. Solaire, I'm assuming, readies a lightning spear, but Firana holds up a wing to signal that I am not currently a threat. Or maybe to state that he should wait until I've landed.

Carefully, I perch on the short wall separating the two people in front of me from the cliff. I stare at Solaire, who seems cautious, but Firana... well, she seems emotionally hurt more than anything else.

"Obsidian? I thought you would... but... why? I just..."

I sigh, cutting off whatever Firana is trying to say.

"Don't bother. I know what I did to Ornstein was unforgivable, don't bother stating the obvious. I do not, however, regret what I did, and I would do it again to save a life." Specifically, the life of the dragoness in front of me, although it wouldn't be very tactical to say that. "And you, Solaire. If it makes you feel better, you can throw that spear at me now. It'll hurt like hell, but I've probably earned it."

Solaire, as expected, throws his lightning spear into my left pauldron. Electricity flows from the metal into my body, although I avoid screaming despite the searing pain. Not as bad as being burned by a certain ring, but a close second.

"Solaire?!" Firana speaks up quickly. So, she does still care about me, to an extent. "You didn't have to-"

"He did." I cut off Firana before she could say anything else. "As I said, I've probably earned it."

It takes a great amount of mental control not to smile, and even still, a slight grin crosses the side of my face.

Until my left pauldron, the one hit with the lightning spear, falls off, Solaire's lightning having dislodged it. I panic, covering my shoulder quickly, hoping that Firana and her companion did not see the burns underneath it.

The dragoness, having superior reflexes to her sunlit friend, spots it.

"Obsidian, what in the name of the Ancestors did you do to yourself?" Firana doesn't bother asking for permission, walking up to me briskly and shoving my paw off my shoulder... and gasping in shock when she saw the charred, cracked scales underneath. "What in the..."

In response, I hold up my left paw, showing off the ring I am currently wearing.

"You can thank this ring for that. Saved my life, but it wanted a 'blood price' of sorts. I'm guessing..." I trail off at the end of my sentence, shaking my head. "Don't worry about it, it'll heal in time. Now, as for why I am here, well..." Once again, I trail off. "I'm here to stop you from sacrificing yourself to the First Flame."

"WHAT?!" Solaire interjects, not entirely unwelcome in my opinion. "Save one life at the cost of the Sun's warmth?! Are you insane?!"

I sigh, acknowledging the point made by the undead.

"I very probably am insane, yes. The Darksign has a habit of draining sanity from its' bearers, but that is besides the point." I hold up my paw, stopping Solaire from responding. "I will not let you sacrifice yourselves for 'the greater good' when no good will ever come from it. Linking the flame caused the Curse, the Darksign. Prolonging it will destroy entire _nations_. So tell me, why should you sacrifice yourself for the sake of a dying hierarchy, which views humanity as little more than a solution?"

Solaire, for all his faith in Gwyn, fails to say anything, stuttering in an attempt to deny what he knows is true. Firana, on the other hand, seems to have been taken aback by my little speech, her maw opening and closing as if she is not sure what to say. I quickly realise that Solaire has been spoon-feeding the dragoness the ideals of Gwyn, which in turn means that...

"You... bastard..."

I'm careful when speaking to keep my voice quiet, so Solaire and Firana don't realise what's wrong. Thankfully, if they did notice, they don't show it. Firana speaks up, having finally figured out what to say.

"If that is all you had to say, Obsidian, then you can leave." The dragoness narrows her eyes, fresh anger covering what appears to be either longing or regret. "I don't recognise you as the black dragon who I once loved."

I don't deny the claim.

"Perhaps. Or, perhaps the poison of lies that Gwyn poured into this world has infected you too." Solaire draws his sword, and rushes towards me. I don't even bother blocking, letting the weapon bounce off my armour.. "If you insist on dying for some futile purpose, Firana, then I will accompany you. That is non-negotiable."

Solaire narrows his eyes, as I can see through the slit in his helmet.

"Liar."

I focus on Solaire, unflinching. After a few minutes, he backs down, averting his gaze from my eyes. I turn back towards Firana, blinking carefully.

"So, Firana, what say you?"

(Firana's POV)

(Time skip)

I can't believe it. Obsidian, the only dragon capable of wielding a curse without being touched by its' corruption, corrupted. The only living being that successfully held back an entire army of apes solo, fallen to that which he hated. The wyrm who saved my life multiple times, changed beyond recognition.

I fly ahead of the black dragon, Solaire on my back. I refuse to fly behind Obsidian, since it would pain me too much to do so. Solaire agreed to keep an eye on the dragon, and to kill him if he tried anything, but... well, I don't fancy his chances. Obsidian defeated one of the greatest servants of the God of Sunlight, so I doubt that a mere adherent would stand a chance.

On the subject of Sunlight, the three of us are flying to Anor Londo. Me and Solaire never retrieved the Lord Vessel from the city, and without it the First Flame cannot be linked. The First Flame... the wondrous source of power which allowed the beautiful city of Sunlight to be built in the first place. I must admit, a tear escaped my eye when I first set my eyes upon the city, but-

But the city is gone. I fly over the massive, stone wall which protected Anor Londo from invasion, only to find ruins, ash decorating the ground amidst them. I gasp in shock at the sight, Solaire actually crying out, but Obsidian is... unfazed.

"Dragon?! Did you do this?!"

I feel Solaire ready a lightning spear to knock Obsidian out of the sky, not that it would do much.

"Would you even believe me if I said no?" Obsidian retorts, while flying into the ruins. "You hate me with every fibre of your being. I trust you only to distrust me."

"For the record," I interrupt, wanting to clarify something. "IF Obsidian destroyed the city, it would have been in response to a lot of pain..."

I trail off at the end, as I realise what likely caused that pain.

"Did I ask you, fire drake?!" Solaire kicks his heels into my flanks, which are sensitive thanks to a certain egg. "Answer me, dragon! Did you do this?!"

Obsidian nods his head, gripping his glaive tightly. With a cry of rage, Solaire leaps off my back, trying to reach Obsidian. The force of the leap, and the sudden change in weight, sends me plummeting into the ruins. I spread out my wings in an attempt to stabilise myself before I hit the ground, managing to land on all fours by a mere half-second. The ash cushions my fall, and I am suddenly grateful that Obsidian burnt the city down instead of simply demolishing it.

I hear a scream of pain in the distance which I recognise to be Obsidian, and I rush towards him.

To my dismay, when I turn a corner around a building, I see Solaire attacking Obsidian relentlessly.

But Obsidian is not fighting back.

(Obsidian's POV)

I leap to the left just as Solaire swings his sword at me, the blade glancing off my armour. I could easily kill the knight, but... that could condemn the sunlight warrior to Hollowing, and not even the worst villain in the universe deserves that fate.

"FIGHT BACK!" Solaire screams, shield bashing me in the chest. "FIGHT BACK YOU MONSTER!"

I sidestep another sword swing, this one cutting into my right wing, and I end up angled in such a way as to spot Firana watching the whole ordeal.

"Firana, get out of here!" I vault over Solaire as I speak as he charges at me. "This is not your fight!" The dragoness is speechless, watching her companion for who-knows-how-long duel someone she once loved. I almost get lost in my thoughts, my left wing getting amputated by a swing from Solaire. "I NEED THAT, YOU SON OF A ****!"

"GOOD!" Solaire screams back, while attempting to impale me. "TO THE ABYSS WITH YOU!"

I sidestep Solaire's stab, expecting to go unscathed... only to find that it is a feint. I can do nothing to stop Solaire's blade as it is driven forward, through my side, and glancing my beating heart.

The adherent of Gwyn pulls his blade out of my side with a sickening twist, shredding one of the arteries attached to my heart. I cough up blood immediately, falling onto the ground in wake of my likely fatal wound. My mind moves into the past for a moment, a flashback of my first death moving before my eyes...

 _I feel the greatsword being pulled from my heart, pain wracking my entire being. I hear the people walk off, but I'm too busy dying to care._

 _I lie in place, my slow, painful breaths being the only thing I hear. Pulses of pain flood my body in time with my extremely weak heartbeat. Warm blood flows over my body, staining my armour a darker black. After what feels like a millennium, I take in a single, painful breath... a single, weak heartbeat pulses in my chest... and... finally..._

I roll to the side just in time to avoid Solaire's killing strike, which hits the ashen ground instead of me. My veins tighten around my eyes, pain assaulting my head from within the burning sockets. I stare at the knight in front of me, feeling blood enter my eyes, and my cursed flames once again awakening.

 **"NARVI-IN I GAW, SOLAIRE!"**

I scream in pain at the knight, who backs off at the sudden distortion of my voice. I want to rush forward, to rip Solaire limb from limb, flesh from bone... but I control myself. I stay in place, focusing my thoughts on the present instead of the memory of my first death. Not a single thing moves as I force my anger down into the depths of my being, trying to put a leash on my power.

With a battle cry, Solaire dashes towards me, blade raised. If the blow connects, I will lose control. I know it for a fact. I close my eyes, waiting for the pain that will sign Solaire's death warrant...

"DON'T!"

(Firana's POV)

I watch, emotional pain filling my entire being as Solaire attacks Obsidian, who refuses to fight back. Where was this restraint when he fought Ornstein? When he killed him, slowly, and painfully?

I wince as the blade of Solaire pushes through Obsidian's left wing joint, severing the limb from his body. Obsidian screams in pain, but he still restrains himself. His now green eyes flicker with hints of orange as the dragon attempts to control himself.

Obsidian's eyes go completely orange when Solaire impales the dragon on his sword, and then forces him off. The dragon coughs violently, black blood forcing itself out of both his mouth and his wound with each lurch of his chest, before Obsidian falls to the ground. The dragon rolls away from Solaire's killing blow, and he screams in an otherworldly voice.

 **"NARVI-IN I GAW, SOLAIRE!"**

I do not know what that means, but it sounds like a curse. Solaire stands in place, shocked, before dashing at Obsidian, ready to deliver the final blow. I look in Obsidian's eyes, which have gone bloodshot, but... the amount of blood is changing, as if Obsidian is trying to hold back his rage. I realise, with a sickening horror, that if Solaire hits Obsidian then the dragon will lose control, and could kill both of us.

"DON'T!"

I scream at the top of my lungs, jumping in front of Obsidian to shield him from the blow. Solaire falters when he spots me, but it is too late to stop the blow...

Which cuts through my chest like a hot knife through butter.

(Obsidian's POV)

I open my eyes just in time to see Firana jump in front of me, and to see her chest get sliced open. I don't stare at the wound, though, because Solaire just did something much worse than hit me with that blade.

 **"TOL ARCHAN!"**

I scream with every fibre of my being, finally giving in to my hatred. I leap forward, Myrglaw blazing with cursed flames, fully intent on killing Solaire then and there.

The knight, thankfully, doesn't move, allowing me to drive the blade of Myrglaw through his waist, carving Solaire in two. Both halves of the knight burst into cursed flames, Solaire screaming in pain while slowly dying of fire and blood loss. I turn away from the scene just as the final screech leaves Solaire, shifting my gaze towards the wound on Firana's chest.

The wound is clearly fatal. Firana's heart is clearly visible, beating weakly but firmly, pushing blood out of the wound onto her already red scales. The dragoness looks conscious, unfortunately, meaning that the pain...

I shove that thought from my mind, and I sit down next to Firana. She weakly turns her head towards me, smiling faintly.

"'Sidian." Firana manages to open her maw to speak, despite the blood that is in her mouth. "I'm sorry about what I said. I just..."

"Shh." I place my paw on Firana's maw. "This is for the best. You would hate me if you saw what I am going to turn into."

I am about to say something else, but Firana proceeds to scream in pain. I look down... and her stomach is contracting. I am confused for a second, before it hits me. The egg!

 **That just about wraps up that chapter. I'm sorry it took me a while to get it out, life got in the way of things, but oh well.**

 **I'm going to be honest with you, I've cut out the majority of what is to go for 'Accursed Fires' to speed the story along, since it was going to take far more words than are needed for the narrative. There will be one more chapter and an epilogue, then I'll call this story finished. Feel free to leave a review, it helps a lot more than you'd think, and feel free to leave flames. If it burns down this fanfiction, then I made it too flammable. (Jokes)**

 **Until next time...**


	20. 19: Accursed

**Chapter 19: Accursed**

 **So, the final chapter before the epilogue. I've had to cut the story** **short since I was getting off track, so for those of you hoping for a longer story, I'm afraid you'll have to wait. _Maybe_ , if there is a demand for it, I'll do a continuation of this sometime in the future, but right now I see little reason to do more than this chapter and an epilogue.**

 **To R.K, you are completely correct with your statement about Obsidian having no 'chill', but 'snap' doesn't do Obsidian justice. At least, not his really bad fits of rage, like the one where he ambushed, defeated, and tortured Ornstein.**

 **To SKdaGamer, thank you for all the constructive criticism up until this point. It has honestly improved my writing style to the point where I am actually considering writing my own, original fiction. ('Considering' being the key word) So, once again, thank you.**

 **And to everyone who has supported this fanfiction up until this point, whether it be with reviews, follows, favourites, or simply viewing the story, thank you.**

 **Now, on with the final act of the show.**

 _My life back then was an accursed story, a pit of sorrow and anger. I made mistakes, like everyone else, but unlike other people I paid a heavy price for mine. I lost everything, even the right to raise a child. Had I stayed in the Dragon Realms, maybe I would have had a happier life, maybe I would not be the accursed immortal I am today, but in the end I would have still fallen to my own power. Someone would have had to stop me, and lives would have been lost in the process._

 _I am not happy with what I did with my life, such as it was, but I am at peace with it. The way I see it, the past is the past, and it should not be changed. Maybe I could have done something differently, maybe I could have saved Firana's life, maybe I could have broken the curse. It matters not. In the end, we can never truly know what would have happened, only what has happened._

 _And what has happened is a fate that I will not allow any other to endure._

(Obsidian's POV)

I feel like a corpse as I stand next to the makeshift grave I've constructed in the ruins of Anor Londo, the runes on the surface of the gravestone glistening faintly with my corrupted flames. _Post in Sidr, Firana, melethril -o i lug -o rac._

I built the grave myself, using the ruined stones of Anor Londo to construct the stone on which I drew the runes. Very few, if any, would ever read the message I left, and fewer still would understand it. It is better this way. I would not want anyone to understand what I wrote, yet I would still honour Firana's death, unnecessary as it was. I will likely never see the grave again, but... one day I will forget her. I will forget everything. It doesn't matter if I don't see the grave, because one day there will be no reason to.

I fall to my knees, tears mostly spent but still dropping. The only person who ever truly cared about me, and the only person who I ever truly cared about, dead. I suppose I'll come to terms eventually, even if it feels impossible. Time is the one thing I have in abundance. I'll be alive a thousand years from now, in all likelihood. Hopefully, one day I'll die, but...

With a sigh, I banish all thoughts from my head, turning towards the red and black egg behind me. A small thing, really. Chances are it is little more than an empty shell, much like the shell Filianore rests upon in the Ringed City. And yet... and yet... if there is even the slightest chance of it hatching... if there is even the slightest chance that Firana will leave behind a legacy of sorts...

I shake my head, getting up and walking towards my severed wing, lying on the ground with black blood still pouring from it. Carefully, I focus my mind towards the blood in the severed limb and in the still-bleeding stump on my back. They both respond, flowing into the air and connecting like a tether. I smile sadly, remembering the time I used the same technique on Firana, before pulling on the severed limb. It jerks into life, practically teleporting onto the stump from which it was severed. Pain lances through my entire body, although I barely flinch, forcing my corrupted blood to stitch the wing back onto my back. Stabs of pain assault me every time a new stitch is made, but I make no sound.

When the procedure is complete, I experimentally flex both my wings. The left wing, the one I reattached, feels a bit sluggish when compared to my right wing, but as long as they both work, I won't complain.

With a sigh, I walk back towards the egg, picking it up with both paws. Myrglaw seems to melt into my cursed flames when I place my paws onto the egg, although I ignore it. There are far more important things to worry about.

Like getting this egg into the Dragon Realms.

(Time skip)

"Ah, dragon. I thought I would see you again, although not so soon, and definitely not with an egg."

"Pleased to see you too, Kaathe." The primordial serpent seems pleased to see me, although I doubt he expected to see me so soon. "I have a favour to ask, relating to this egg."

"No." The serpent shakes his head, a humorous glint in his eyes behind the serpentine pupils. "I cannot send both you and the egg into your home."

I shake my head in response, opening my maw to speak.

"That is not what I am asking." The serpent looks curiously at me, intrigued by what I am saying. "I am asking you to return the egg to the Dragon Realms, while I remain here and kill Gwyn."

"I see." Kaathe seems to consider my offer for a moment, before distorting the Abyss next to him, an egg-sized portal appearing in the area of distorted darkness, through which I can see the Dragon Temple. "Push the egg through the portal. Then I will take you to Gwyn."

With a shrug, I walk towards the portal, and I push the egg through it. The darkness is surprisingly resistant, pushing back for a while, before eventually it gives way, allowing the egg to be transported to the Dragon Realms. I sigh in resignation as the portal closes, knowing that I will likely never see the Dragon Realms again.

"It is done. Now, entrust thine flesh to me."

With that sentence, Kaathe does the exact thing I expect, thanks to the Dark Souls games. He rears up, opens his mouth, before swallowing me whole.

(Time skip)

After what feels like an eternity, a disgusting, wet, boiling hot eternity, Kaathe finally opens his mouth and deposits me on the ground in front of giant, stone doors. I quickly get up, and start brushing the digestive fluids off my body.

"Could you have perhaps used a different method of transportation, Darkstalker?"

"Behind those doors," Kaathe starts speaking, ignoring my question. "is Lord Gwyn, and the fading flame he guards. Kill him, and the flames will die, starting the Age of Man. That is a promise."

I turn around, looking the Darkstalker in the eye.

"I am not doing this to start a new Age, I am doing this to punish Gwyn for everything he has done, and to destroy his legacy, be it the first flame or his precious kiln."

"Very well, dragon."

I turn around, and walk towards the giant stone doors. I can feel the sunlight within them, pulsing like a heartbeat, and protecting the doors from harm. Although that will be no barrier. Not when I've got nothing left to lose by using a certain ring.

As if hearing my thoughts, the eye within the ring glows softly, the burns on my front left limb lighting up with orange energy. I smirk, reaching the giant stone doors within seconds. Without saying anything, I force my cursed flames to mix with the power of the ring, before punching the double door right in the centre. Burning pain lances through my body, which would blind me if I cared.

No... what I care about is the explosion of energy which blasts the doors off their hinges, the area of impact having been completely annihilated by the explosion. I almost get pushed back by the force of the explosion, only holding my ground thanks to the claws on my hind legs, which provide extra grip on the ground.

When the dust clears, a blinding white, ghostly staircase is visible through the destroyed doorway, the spirits of fallen Silver Knights walking across it like sentinels. I slowly walk down the ghostly stairs, enjoying the feel of power flowing through my veins. The ghosts of the Silver Knights, as if afraid, back away as soon as I walk in front of them, as if afraid. _This_ is something I could get used to, being feared.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I feel a faint flicker of surprise when I spot the wasteland in front of me. Ashen dunes rise out of the ground, a Colosseum-like structure visible in the distance, with a 'sky' literally made of stone. Sunlight falls through cracks in the high-up roof, illuminating the wasteland like rays through clouds. I almost sigh in contentment at the sight.

But my memory isn't so far gone that I cannot remember why I am here. With a dark smile on my face, I begin walking towards the centre of the Kiln, the structure reminiscent of the Colosseum. Gwyn should be within it, guarded by his most loyal Black Knights. It won't matter, in the end.

After all, should I die, I will simply rise and rise again until Gwyn is punished suitably for his crimes.

With careful concentration, I force my cursed flames to form into Myrglaw, the burning curse slowly taking solid form as I focus my fires towards my front right paw. A sudden weight just appears out of thin air in my paw, Myrglaw finally having once again taken solid form.

With grim determination, I walk into the ashen wasteland, ring burning happily on my claw, knowing it will be used.

And I will not shy away from using it because of the cost.

(Time skip)

I leap to the side, barely avoiding a blow from a Black Knight glaive as I swing Myrglaw around to counter, decapitating the knight. Interestingly, these knights were actually something of a challenge, even if they don't hold a candle to me in terms of raw power. No, that honour belongs only to the being on the other side of this archway, the same being I wish to torture and kill for his crimes.

Gwyn, the God of Sunlight, and the herald of the Age of Fire.

I can see him through the archway, hollowed face staring blankly at me through his hollowed, black eyes, greatsword burning with flame. I eye the burning weapon carefully, trying to formulate a plan of attack. Gwyn will not attack until I threaten his 'perfect' flame, giving me time to...

Oh, to hell with it, what is the point of being an undying dragon if you don't use your inability to die! Worse case scenario, I end up dead and I fight again.

I flex my wings carefully, deciding against getting them cut off in this fight, before walking into the Kiln. Gwyn springs into life as soon as I step into the building, leaping towards me with a speed and strength that defy reality itself. Adrenalin still coursing through my veins from the last fight, I leap towards Gwyn, the blade of Myrglaw bursting into flames as I leap.

I swing Myrglaw horizontally from my left when I reach Gwyn, and he swings horizontally from my right. Our blades clash with an explosion of sound, burning my sensitive draconic ears but not doing any real damage. Both me and Gwyn press against each other as our blades are locked together, my supernatural strength being truly challenged for the first time since I've arrived in Lordran.

I break away from our blade lock with a burst of strength, realising that Gwyn can outpace me in both strength and stamina. If I'm going to win this, it will be quickly.

I flick my tail in annoyance when I spot Gwyn hurtling towards me again. This time, instead of attempting to block the incoming blade, I duck underneath it, swinging Myrglaw around in an attempt to counter. Gwyn leaps away before I hit anything, backhanding me with the blunt end of his blade as he does so, sending me hurtling towards the wall.

I dig Myrglaw deep into the ashen ground before I reach the wall, slowing me down to a halt. The ring on my claw tightens a bit, as if urging me to use it to improve my ability to fight. As tempting as it is, I decide instead to tap into my own power, cursed flames igniting in my bloodstream and escaping through the gaps between my scales. Hot pain leaps through every inch of my body, but I ignore it, once again charging at Gwyn.

The God of Sunlight reacts as if he knew I was coming at him minutes ago, leaping aside and grabbing me with his off hand. I am lifted off the ground by my wings, and before I can do anything, flames explode on my back. I am sent flying onto the ground several metres away, the giant, cauterised wound on my back thankfully not bleeding.

I get up in time to see a greatsword heading towards my neck, and I manage to block it with the shaft of Myrglaw. Gwyn stands over me, pressing his blade further towards my neck with each second.

When golden blade touches my neck, Myrglaw digging into my own flesh at the same time, the ring on my claw once again tightens. When the first scale cracks, it starts glowing, heat lancing through the burns on my entire body, and I finally decide to use the full potential of the ring, since my chances of winning without it are slim, to say the least.

Burning pain lances through my body as orange energy explodes in a short radius around me, knocking Gwyn a couple of metres away from me. I feel time slow around me as another mind enters my head, battling for dominance against my own will. It sort of... _conveys_ understanding to me as I fight it, knowledge and thoughts that are not my own appearing in my minds' eye.

Eventually, the foreign mind leaves, and time starts moving once again. Pure agony rips through my entire body as scales are burnt off my flesh, being replaced by extremely painful rivers of burnt flesh. I scream in torture as the burns light up with flames, further increasing the pain... and I get up, using the pain to fuel my own, inherent power. Pure torture moves through my mortal form, one eye being burnt by the energy flowing through my body.

I focus back on Gwyn just in time to see him rush towards me at the usual speed, except this time I manage to avoid the incoming blow, and counterattack with Myrglaw, which glances off Gwyn's back. The God of Sunlight leaps backwards in surprise, only to spot a burning glaive flying towards his gut.

Myrglaw impales itself on Gwyn's body, the cursed flames incinerating the innards of the hollowed lord. Gwyn, seemingly unfazed, pulls the glaive out of his body, before discarding it like little more than a useless toy. As soon as the blade leaves the hand of the God, I reach out with my ringed paw, orange energies enveloping the glaive and forcing it to fly towards me. I catch the glaive just in time to block an overhead swing made by Gwyn.

Like in my fight with Manus, cursed flames envelop my body for an instant without me forcing them to do so. I feel an otherworldly presence pass through my body, and when the flames fade, I am behind Gwyn, who is still making his overhead swing.

With a smirk, I thrust Myrglaw forward, aiming for the neck of the fallen lord. Gwyn realises what has happened just in time to avoid the worst of the blow, but the serrated weapon still draws blood when it cuts an artery on Gwyn's neck. The God of Sunlight, once again grabs me, only this time I react fast enough to cut off his hand with my glaive.

Gwyn doesn't scream in pain as his off hand is removed, merely swinging his greatsword at me again. I cannot get away in time, the greatsword carving a large chunk of my left hind leg off. I screech in pain while counterattacking with a swing from Myrglaw. Gwyn clearly is not expecting the swing, as he turns around a second too late... his head falling uselessly to the ashen floor.

I finally sigh, the burn pains throughout my body finally fading... as does the adrenaline dulling the pain. I hiss as I fall to my knees, the pain from the burn wounds almost too much for me to bear. I drop Myrglaw, which once again fades back into my cursed flames, the solid form of the weapon slowly shifting into the cursed flames that enabled me to get this far.

After a few moments, I manage to get up, vision in my left eye impaired slightly thanks to the ring, and I walk towards the First Flame. It is a quaint little thing, a small ember burning in the centre of a pile of ash, a coiled sword embedded in the pile. It is tempting, _extremely_ tempting to leave the flame as it is, to allow it to fade... although, I have a better idea.

I open my maw, and I breathe out pure cursed flames, which engulf the tiny ember that fuels this world. I sustain the flame breath for only a second, letting it die afterwards. The flames fade, revealing a flame-less, ashen pile, with a cold, black, coiled sword embedded into it. A grim smile crosses my face, and I walk out of the building into the ashen wasteland.

I sigh, taking in a breathe of the flame-free air, before taking to the skies, such as they were. I survey the ruins in the land, which are burnt beyond recognition thanks to Gwyn. I idly wonder what this place looked like before Gwyn sacrificed himself for 'the greater good'.

With a sudden, painless jolt, I feel my strength start to fade, probably caused by my Darksign suddenly losing its' connection to the First Flame. I fly carefully down into the ruins, my limbs growing weaker by the second, eventually landing on all fours.

I wander the ruins for a short while, admiring the craftsmanship and dedication that must have gone into this building, before exhaustion and weakness overcome me.

I close my eyes, and I finally, _finally_ , drift off into sleep, for what feels like the first time in my life...

 **And that is the closing chapter of Accursed Fires. If you are wondering if this is the end of Obsidian, then you will have to either wait until the epilogue, or forget about reading further, decide how you would end it, and leave it at that. Maybe go read a good, original book, like _Dreams and Shadows_ , or _The Silmarillion._ I have read both, and they are far better than anything I could ever write.**

 **I'll probably take a break from writing after I get the epilogue out, since I'm completely out of creative capacity after that. If any of you have found a fanfiction you think I should read, and I mean _really should_ read, then PM me. Worst case scenario, I've already read it.**

 **Until the epilogue, I bid you good day...**


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The hollow was walking the streets of Lordran, under the impression all was right with the world, when suddenly the cloudless sky went dark, stars shining down on the corrupted land. The hollow, along with his insane brethren, looked into the sky in unison, watching without emotion as the stars slowly blinked out. One by one, the tiny, distant candles in the sky were extinguished, one by one. The hollow could only stare in confusion as the constellations he once knew flickered out of existence, slowly but surely disappearing.

It was only after the sky was spotless that the hollow felt something. A nagging, weakening sensation, spreading slowly from his Brand throughout his body. The hollow looked around at his fellow hollows, confused, as they dropped dead one by one, as if the life was being sucked out of them by some unknown force. The hollow briefly felt a flicker of weakness, as if the soul that was once within him was once again being consumed by the Brand, before feeling the familiar sensation of death.

Darkness closed in around the hollow as the heart within the being's chest stopped beating. The hollow waited for his Brand to revive him... but it never happened. The hollow, more confused than ever, tried to feel his Brand, expecting it to be there. However, instead of a circle of flame, the hollow felt... nothing. There was no brand in his mind now. Had the hollow had any soul left, he would have cried out in joy. As it was, though, he merely waited longer, expecting a revival that would never come.

* * *

In the Dragon Realms, a certain egg sat in the centre of a room, surrounded by other eggs of all colours. It was the Year of the Dragon once again, and it would be mere hours before the sun would rise, and most of these orphaned eggs would hatch. The Guardians, now in a time of peace, had sworn to take in the eggs of the deceased, and to raise them as their own. Surprisingly, none of the three adult dragons in the room noticed the additional, black and red egg in the centre of the room. Nor did they see anything off about it as the shell of the egg began to crack.

After a few minutes, another crack appeared in the same egg. This time, the Guardians took notice, watching closely as the egg hatched. A tiny, black, serrated tail blade pushed through the egg shell, and the top of the red and black egg broke completely.

The small, red and black hatchling crawled out of the remains of his egg, orange eyes shining brightly in the torchlight. The blue dragon in the room carefully walked up to the freshly hatched dragon, and takes one look at the eyes of the hatchling. The blue dragon hisses in surprise and anger, before walking off. The other Guardians walked up to their fellow, opening their maws to ask what was wrong... only for their unspoken question to be shot down by an angry look from the eyes of the blue dragon.

Moments later, another egg in the room cracks. This one white, with a hint of yellow to it...

* * *

The black dragon fell, sleeping in the ashen wastes of Lordran, oblivious thanks to his unconsciousness. The dunes buried the dragon, covering him in ash as he continued to sink deeper into the ground. The dragon was armoured to the teeth, tail coiled around his form, and black armour covering his body, concealing a fiery brand.

The dragon, ignorant of the fact that he should be dead, continued to sleep. Behind his eyelids, his pupils fluttered, as if dreaming. A smile was on the face of the dragon, as he is sustained by a curse that should have been broken. The dragon continues to fall, still oblivious to his inability to breathe, eventually falling so far into the wasteland that there was no ash to surround him, only a cursed darkness.

From a distance, a primordial serpent watched the dragon sink deeper into the Abyss, a content smile on his face as he fell. The serpent frowned, before turning away from the falling drake, and returning to his own devices.

And deep within the mind of the dragon, Obsidian slumbered, not to wake for a whole decade...


End file.
